


Storms of Ice and Fire

by Please_Call_Me_Cordelia



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Abduction, Action/Adventure, Angst, Character Study, F/M, Fantasy, Manipulation, Sensuality, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Supernatural Elements, complex characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 07:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 148,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Please_Call_Me_Cordelia/pseuds/Please_Call_Me_Cordelia
Summary: After the war Zuko chooses Mai due to political pressures. Katara, embittered and vengeful, goes to the one person who can help her blackmail him and win him back: Ozai. But Ozai has conditions of his own and their alliance takes an unexpected turn. Will Katara find a path that leads back to Zuko? Or will the poison in her heart careen her toward a far different fate? Ozai/Katara





	1. Slants of Light

Night still hid the withering dawn but a touch of pale light rimmed the skyline of Caldera City. Katara paced along the path that snaked out from the capitol of the Fire Nation into a span of trees that blanketed the southern border of the city. She must have been waiting for hours, as night slowly died to morning, the hooded cloak concealing her face in complete darkness like a banshee. Maybe he wasn't going to come, she thought. It would hardly surprise her, after everything. She sighed, hugging her arms around her waist, half hoping, half fearing what it might mean if he did come. What it would mean if he didn't.

The scuff of a shoe and faint footsteps crunching on the dirt path, and Katara could see the vague shape of someone materializing from the shadows. Her breath caught in her throat as equal measures of desire and dread pulsed through her like an electric shock. The odds were small that it could be anyone else at this time of night – er, morning –, but if it were an off-duty guard or councilman out for a very early walk…? If she were discovered, cloaked and waiting in secret at the edge of the city, they wouldn't need to guess at her reason for being here. Or who she waited for. It had been made very clear what would happen if they were found out again.

As the shape grew closer, his face caught in slants of light where it was exposed beneath his hood, and Katara released a silent breath. The angle of his jaw, where she had peppered long kisses in hidden nights of passion. The fair skin that had brushed against hers, smooth as silk, porcelain contrasting daringly against mocha as their bodies had met, pulse to pulse. She would know him anywhere. But if that left any doubt, the tip of the scar peeking out from under his covering betrayed any misgivings she might have had.

She allowed a faint smile to perch on her lips as she took in a shallow breath and stepped toward him.

"Zuko," she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come." He was silent as he came to stand before her now and his scent carried in the air between them, spiced and warm and bright. "We haven't been able to be alone in so long, I had to see you and I wanted to talk–"

"How many people did you tell?"

Katara blinked, the smile melting off her face. "What? Why?"

"I was followed," Zuko said brusquely. "I think I managed to lose them, but whoever it was they saw me leave. So I'm asking you again. How many people did you tell?"

"Wh– No one." Her eyes flitted away briefly as it came rushing back to her. "Well, I may have told Sokka but he would never–"

"The walls have ears, Katara. You should know that by now. Speaking of it to anyone could be as good as exposing us to the entire royal palace."

Her shoulders sagged as her lips worked, trying to find the words. In the end all she could choke out was, "I'm sorry."

A moment passed between them, long and suffocating. "We can't do this anymore.  _I_  can't do this anymore. I'm watched too closely. Our little trysts are hardly a secret, and my guards will go to  _great lengths_  to remove any threat to my ability to lead as Fire Lord." He paused to let his meaning sink in. "There's too much on the line. Reputation, political obligations. Upholding the fragile peace that, by some miracle, we've maintained so far. There are many in the Fire Nation who still align with my father and would jump at the first chance to take down his usurper." Zuko sighed deeply. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet before his eyes found hers again. "I'm sorry, Katara." His voice was strained and tired. "I do love you. But I  _have_  to marry Mai, for the good of my people." He kept his hands in his pockets as he spoke, his posture closed. And with it closed her heart. "I respect you far too much to let you carry on as my harlot. We have to end this."

Her jaw went slack. His harlot? Was that what she was to him?

The hope she had fostered was now ashes at her feet, her stomach a lead weight, hard and heavy. "I– I thought we talked about this. Our love could be good for the Fire Nation, for the world. Fire and Water coming together in mutual love and respect – we would be a symbol of the peace we've promised."

"I wish it were that simple. But it's not." He paced slowly, hands in his pockets, fragments of washed-out shadow sweeping over his face in turns. It was approaching dawn now and they didn't have much time left.

Hot tears were brimming in her eyes and a wave of anger was rising to compete with the pain. "If you really wanted to make this work, you would. You don't  _have_  to marry Mai. You're  _choosing_  her." In a scratchy half-whisper, the ragged words choked out.

"Katara, I'm not–" The joyful trill of a songbird in the treetops heralded the breach of morning. Through the canopy of leaves, pale light leaked onto the beaten path at their feet. "I have to go. The servants have probably already noticed I'm gone." His voice was thick with resignation. He turned away and then stopped, looking over his shoulder, his honey-gold eyes fixing on hers one last time. "Goodbye." And then she watched him slip back down the path and shrink from view, from her life, until he became part of the landscape and was gone.

Katara stood, suffocating in the gulf of nothingness where Zuko had been moments ago. His words left a scar on her heart.

He chose her.

_ He chose her. _

Bitterness pumped its white-hot venom through her veins. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to be the one discarded. He loved her, he said he did. He couldn't possibly see himself bound to that stale, lifeless excuse for a woman. Surely he only made the choice to protect his country, to protect her. Since joining Aang, he had become selfless, sacrificing so much for the greater good that his judgment had become clouded. His actions now must stem from something deeper there. But how wrong he was this time, he had to see that.

Her thoughts were spinning now. What if she could show him that? She could get him back. Whatever it took, there was no obstacle she was unwilling to forge if it meant they could be together again. Not in secret, as they had been since his coronation as Fire Lord, but openly and unashamed.

But she knew Zuko. Oh, she knew him. Once his mind was made up, wild horses couldn't drag him from it. What would it take? Persuasion? Manipulation?

Blackmail…?

And just like that, her thoughts avalanched into a larger idea. His reputation was on the line, he'd said. Well, maybe he needed a little shake to his reputation to ground him, to remind him that it isn't everything. To show him that she'd stand by him through anything.

Out of her anguish, a plan was blooming. Almost a living, breathing thing, this idea, it grew so quickly, so easily.

And no amount of wild horses would get in her way.


	2. Ash on the Wind

_She sat on the beach. A hand brushed the hair from her neck, a familiar voice heavy with her shared desire, longing, wishes and dreams. No shadows hid their passion, laughter light on the breeze where the storms of war had been moments ago._

_A blink and suddenly she was standing in the palace courtyard. Coronation day. Amber eyes burned the space between them from where he knelt up on the veranda. The Fire Lord's headpiece slipped over his topknot. His helpless expression said it all. Dreams crumbling, ash on the wind. A Fire Lord's duty, they had said, and Water had no place in it. Not like that._

_Fog billowed in and then she was alone in the thick grey curls. And when it cleared, she was inside the palace, in the great hall. He was there too, but that woman's arms hung around his neck like a noose, squeezing, strangling. Her smile stretched unnaturally from ear to ear, her teeth filed to sickening points. In every direction, the stern eyes of the council watched, never blinking. Watching, damning._

_A starless night. In the black velvet of shadows he ushered her into his quarters, and she sunk beneath him in a sea of satin and they were tangled, lips and breath and hunger. Gratitude, relief, and laughter breathed and tasted. But those ever-seeing eyes rushed from the shadows and he was wrenched from her, engulfed in a giant fist of fire._

_There were only glances and whispers in passing then, an ache where the easy smiles had been. A touch when they thought no one could see. And each time the storm calmed, thrill and desire rose swiftly again._

_The moon was riding high. She was running her hands through his hair and he took her wrist and they moved through an alleyway, drunk with their secret, where columns of vines hung from the walls. Her back at the cold brick, his hands hot on her hips, and those vines wrapped around them until there was nothing but sparks and skin and sweat and promises._

_Promises…_

_Emptiness. A void where his touch had been. No more secrets, no more glances. He was slipping through her fingers. Too many chances, caught too many times, and now those all-seeing eyes would make sure they were never together again. She reached for him, but he didn't reach back, amber eyes dull and dead._

_He didn't reach back…_

Katara woke to the pattering of rain at the window and a thick blanket of grey pressing down from the sky. It darkened what remained of the late afternoon light and she could see that it wouldn't be long before the city succumbed to nightfall. She had slept through most of the morning and afternoon, the night spent in waiting and the breaking of her heart rendering her exhausted. But it had been a restless sleep, peppered with haunting dreams, memories, flickering dead-ends and longing like a candle in the wind. She woke now to the discontent of life in her skin. Woke to festering bitterness.

She groaned into her pillow and rolled out of bed, smoothing the wrinkles from her tunic and pausing to assess herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked sad and her hair was disheveled. She ran a comb languidly through her unruly brown locks. What would her friends say when they saw her?

What would Aang say?

Things had been cordial enough since the war's end, she had to credit him there. But it had never been the same between them. The day she and Zuko had risen together to take down Azula, something had clicked into place, like the fitting of a final puzzle piece. She had held Zuko as he'd lain charred and blistered, sprawled in agony, the wound pitted so much deeper than the raw, bubbling flesh at the surface. He was dying in her arms. And she had healed him. And with the fusing of his flesh beneath her touch, so fused their souls, bound together, moon and sun as one.

And Aang knew. It was there on his face, in the wilt of his shoulders and the shallow, strained sigh when he saw them again. It was impossible to miss it. Tangible, this energy between them like a lightning storm on a summer night. He knew. He knew he could never compete with what they had now.

Well. What they had  _then_.

Her blood pulsed sour and she dropped the comb on her dresser and opened the door. From the hallway she could hear the hum of voices rising up from the great room below. She walked toward the loft, keeping to the shadows, and peered down. Aang and Toph sat atop a plush mat, Suki opposite them on either side of a long, squat table, bowls of steaming rice and meat set before them. The conversation was light and even the guards, who stood at the grand entrance, wore easy smiles and chimed in the banter.

The house – mansion was more like it, big enough for each of them to claim their own floor – was nestled just outside the palace walls, a gift to the new Fire Lord's closest friends and advisors after the war. Risk of any trouble so close to the palace was minimal, and it showed in the guards' casual manner. It wasn't unusual to catch them with Sokka in the middle of a game of Pai Sho.

"Hey, I was just coming to check on you."

Speak of the devil. She turned to see her brother sauntering up behind her from the other end of the hall.

"You must be hungry. Chef Lu really outdid himself this time. Smoked fish, poached platypus-duck eggs, the most delicate sticky rice you'll ever…" Sokka's goofy smile faded as he took in her appearance, her slack expression. "Oh," he breathed out, his shoulders drooping.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she said before he could say anything, as she turned and made her way down the staircase. Sokka followed closely behind.

"Wait. You're not even gonna tell me what he said to make you look like this? Do you need me to beat him up? He may be Fire Lord, but I'm pretty sure being part of his war council reserves me the right to kick his royal behind."

The staircase curled out from the loft above to the great room in a grand arch. It spit them out right into the center of the common area and the open layout of the mansion made it impossible to slink toward the kitchen without being seen. The moment she set foot in the room, her eyes met with Aang's in an unintended glance and she looked away quickly.

"Hey, Katara," Toph piped impishly. "Lucky you showed up. Suki and I were just about to flip a coin to see who gets your share of the food." The girl scarfed down another bite of rice and fish but then stopped, mid-chew, and tilted her head. "Is it just me," she mumbled through a mouthful of food, "or have you been run over by a herd of elk-hippos?"

"Not now, Toph," came Sokka's voice as Katara ignored them and passed through an archway into the dining room, stopping once she was out of sight at the door to the kitchen. She could feel her brother's eyes on her as they stood silent for a long moment. A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder finally and when he spoke this time, his voice was soft, concerned. "Hey…"

She spun around so suddenly that he stumbled back. "Did you tell anyone?"

"What?" he blinked as he caught his footing. "Of course not. Why–?"

"Because Zuko thought he was being followed."

Sokka's eyebrows arched high, his hands held palms-up as if to say,  _And?_  "Whoever it was, they didn't hear it from me. You have to know that."

Katara sighed dejectedly. "I know. Sorry, it's been a long night. Day. Whatever it is." She turned and pushed through the door and was instantly met with the aroma of – what would have been, on any other occasion – a mouthwatering meal. Two plates of still steaming food sat untouched on the counter, artfully presented. But right now, the idea of eating made her stomach clench.

She would need the energy, she told herself. She hadn't eaten since yesterday. She picked up a pair of chopsticks beside the plate and pushed the food around before finally taking a small bite. Her jaw moved but she wasn't sure if she was really chewing. It felt unnatural, like she had forgotten how. In the corner of her eye, Sokka ignored his food and placed a hand on the counter, leaning on it and studying her.

"You know I'm here if you need to talk. Or cry. I have two perfectly good crying shoulders right here." He puffed up his chest and jutted his thumbs toward them with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

She paused and managed some semblance of a smile. "Thanks, Sokka. But I'm fine. Really." She placed the chopsticks back on her barely-touched plate and walked back through the door. With a breath she steeled her jaw as she passed her friends, avoiding eye contact in hopes they wouldn't talk to her, and returned to the solace of her room.

Katara bided her time alone after that – well meaning friends, and brothers, sent away – until night had long since descended and the city had hushed to a quiet sleep. A cold fluttering was working its way into her stomach as she shrugged on her hooded cloak, gazing out the rain-streaked window, the roads glossy and smooth in the flickering lamplight. It was a dangerous plan. If she were caught, she would be thrown into a highly secured waterbending prison for the rest of her life. And that was if she were lucky. But desperation and vengeance chased away any voice of caution and when she was sure most of the house was in bed, she tiptoed down the hall and peeked from the loft to the foyer below.

The two guards sat engaged in a game of cards, relaxed smiles conveying their lighthearted banter. They could be flecks of dirt on the wall for all they actually did here. Pride of the Fire Lord's sentry, she thought with a wry snort. It wouldn't be hard to slip out unnoticed. There was a window in the library at the other end of the house, the one she'd used on many such nights in her rendezvous with Zuko. The shrubbery was high enough to conceal her escape and far enough from the perimeter guards. A piece of cake.

As she slinked back into the shadows of the hallway, she turned and gasped, her hands flying up to clasp over her mouth. She had nearly collided face to face with Aang and he stood before her now, a sharp raise of an eyebrow, the narrowing of his eyes. She hadn't heard him behind her, his steps so nimble and quiet.

"What are you doing?" He tried to sound light but there was a hint of wariness. "In case you haven't noticed, it's the middle of the night."

"I could ask you the same question," she said, crossing her arms in an attempt to downplay her reaction.

"Are you going somewhere?" he continued, his narrowed eyes searching, probing. "In a rainstorm?"

There was a hot churning in her stomach and she fought back the scowl that burned behind what she hoped was a casual expression. "In case you haven't noticed," she mimicked him, "rain doesn't really bother me. But if you must know, I was just going to get some fresh air. I didn't think I'd need your permission." She moved past him toward the other end of the hall and down the opposite stairway that led to the library and grand sitting area. She didn't look back and fervently prayed that he wouldn't follow her.

When she reached the bottom, Katara waited for several moments in the nook between the stairs and the wall. Eventually she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when it appeared she was alone again. Hopefully Aang had given up. She removed her hood briefly to pull on her mask. Only her eyes would be exposed now. She crept to the window, sheathed in curtain to the right of the plush sofa, quietly slid it open, and crawled through.

.::. .::. .::.

Water dripped from her hood in a small stream. Rain fell relentlessly in fat drops, her cloak a clammy weight against her skin. It would have been easy enough to bend the water around her but it was a trivial thing to waste energy on. The moon had begun a new cycle tonight. If her powers peaked during a full moon, they were weakest during the new moon. She would need every ounce of strength she possessed for this to go the way she planned.

Katara snaked to avoid lighted areas as the face of Capital City Prison emerged from the murky darkness. The maximum security prison tower – reserved only for the most dangerous criminals – was built into the side of the volcanic crater that was home to the nation's capital. It was well fortified and heavily guarded. The Prison Tower guards were rigorously trained and underwent grueling tests, both physical and mental. The few who made it out of training wore an honorary pin on their lapel, signifying their strength and dedication. Against these super-humans, as they were sometimes called, the prison was virtually impenetrable.

Unless you happened to be a bloodbender.

From the winding walkway that led to the prison's entrance, Katara could see the silhouettes of two guards at the gate, one on either side, postures rigid and watchful. She kept her back to the precipice as she crept closer up the path. Almost there. The closer she could get, the better control she would have.

Finally, Katara stopped and gulped a breath, extending her arms, fingers splayed out. She pressed back the quiet voice of shame that scraped at the surface of her consciousness and tightened her shoulders. There was no turning back. She exhaled slowly and concentrated, feeling the flutter beneath her fingertips, the first guard's blood pumping through his body. The water of life in his veins. Slowly her fingers curled in toward her palm, a slight twist of her wrist, and the pulse was slowing. Slowing, slowing, the thrum of his heart tiring beneath her power. It was as invigorating as it was terrifying, having this kind of power over another person. But Katara didn't let her thoughts linger there long.

The guard shook his head, swaying, and it wasn't long before he crumpled to the ground like a discarded ragdoll, unconscious, his heart beating just enough to keep him alive. From a distance she could see the other guard tense and recoil at his partner's collapse before rushing to his side. He never made it though. He suddenly froze in mid-stride and buckled down on his knees, leaning on a hand for support. And a moment later, he joined his comrade in a heap on the ground.

Katara waited a moment, watching. When no other guards came running to their aid, she proceeded in the shadows to the gate. Kneeling, she searched the belt of one of the passed out guards until her fingers found the cold ring of keys. They unhooked with a chinkling and, after glancing over her shoulder and trying a few keys in the lock, the gate clicked open. She readied herself and she slipped inside.

The gate groaned closed behind her, resonating against the cold stone corridor. By the time the four guards turned, two of them were already thrown up against the wall, their feet dangling above the floor, their mouths forming a silent scream. The other two charged toward her and Katara shot her arm forward, palm up. They froze, suspended in mid-stride, eyes wide in horror. She held them there, sweating beading on her brow. Her arms were burning, trembling. One had been effortless, even two like child's play. But four very powerful men at once. The rapid, frightened beat of their pulses fought fiercely against her power.

Oh, gods… She couldn't hold them.

She clenched her teeth against her draining energy. She couldn't fail. Images flashed before her of shackles, dry, thirsty prison cells, Sokka's hurt, scorned face. There was no way she could face her brother, her friends, again if she were caught. Failure wasn't an option.

Slowly – agonizingly slowly – the flow of blood became sludge under her shaking grip. One by one, their eyes rolled back and when Katara was sure they were unconscious, she released her hold with a sharp puff of breath. The first two men slid down the wall like limp noodles to a pile on the floor, the other two slumped contorted in the center of the corridor. She double checked that there was just enough pulse to keep them from death and then shook her arms out, the pain slowly fading away.

For several moments, Katara stood there, listening intently. Her strength was sapped. She prayed to the spirits that there were no other soldiers in the immediate vicinity. The occasional plink of a water droplet was the only sound that came, echoing in the silence. Torch sconces flickered against the algae-mottled walls, casting a gloomy light along the dirty floor at her feet. She exhaled a ragged breath as she crept along the wall, clammy and cold, to the corridor that branched into a T at the end.

The cell she was looking for was down the corridor to the left, situated at the end of another short walkway from there. She had managed a peek at the prison map in Zuko's office and had done her best to memorize it. Still, the way the hallways split and snaked out from each other was disorienting. She only had one chance to do this right. She prayed her memory would serve her.

She turned left and slinked along the wall, hardly daring a breath in the echoing space, and darted down the walkway she hoped was the one. A heavy wooden door towered before and she glanced over her shoulder before trying a key in the lock. It didn't turn. She tried another one. Still nothing. She tried another and another, her hand starting to tremble. What if the key wasn't on this ring? She assumed all the guards would carry a master key to unlock all cells – wasn't that how it worked? – but she was second-guessing her knowledge now.

With each wrong key, her stomach tightened more. Her hands were growing slippery with cold sweat. Fumbling, she placed the last key on the ring into the latch and held her breath. There was a click as it turned and Katara released a silent breath. She pulled on the heavy door, surprised at the weight of it, and cringed when it groaned softly in the echoing silence. Quickly, she slipped through the door and pulled it shut behind her.

"Something tells me you aren't here to replace the guard."

A silky voice cut through the stale air like a sharpened blade. Her breath caught in her chest and Katara turned slowly to find a pair of amber eyes watching her from behind the caged door of the cell. Ozai sat on the grimy stone floor, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. There was not a hint of surprise in his cool, sneering expression.

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" she said in a half-mocking tone.

A corner of his mouth turned up a degree as he studied her. "It was fairly obvious by the fifth key you tried in the lock."

Katara shoved the key ring inside her cloak pocket and glared at Ozai. "No one ever told me the fallen Fire Lord had a sense of humor. But sorry to say I'm not here to tell jokes."

"What a pity. Then why are you here?"

Katara pulled the mask down off her face and steeled her jaw as his gaze wandered over her features before returning to her eyes.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance. I'm sure I would remember if I had." His eyes smoldered and Katara tensed under their heat. Her hands clenched briefly at her sides.

"I'm sure you would, but not in the way that you'd like. My name is Katara. You don't know me but I'm sure you've heard of me. I'm the waterbender that took down your psycho daughter."

There was a flash of something dark in his eyes. "Ah. Yes. I'll admit I was impressed when I heard. In a fair fight, very few would have bested Azula. And she wasn't exactly known for fighting fair." Ozai stared at her for a moment before continuing. "So. Now the infamous waterbender stands before me in my lowly prison cell. To what do I owe this honor?" he scoffed. "Come to finish the job?"

"Maybe. But not today." She took a firm stride toward the cage door and sat down on her heels, leveling a hard gaze on him. "I have an offer I doubt you'll want to refuse."


	3. In the Steady Stars

"An offer for me? How intriguing." Ozai's voice was silvery as he sat, arms crossed, leaning back against the far wall. The lonely torch sconce flickered and caught in his amber irises, setting them ablaze. They burned as he studied her.

"It's about Zuko. He and I were–" Katara's hands tightened around the cold iron of the cage. "He chose that… hollow, lifeless woman. After everything we had together, everything he promised me. He said he's doing it for the Fire Nation," she scoffed. She met Ozai's indifferent expression with a flinty gaze from where she kneeled on the grimy stone floor. "I think he needs a little persuasion to see where he's gone wrong."

There was a short pause and then a sharp laugh cut through the silence between them. It came so unexpected Katara flinched a little. "My son, having an affair with a Water Tribe peasant. How utterly unsurprising. Pathetic."

"Says the dethroned tyrant rotting in this filthy cell, with no more purpose now than a children's history lesson. How does it feel to know you were defeated by a twelve-year-old boy? To know that your name will forever be synonymous with failure?" Her sour expression gave way to a glint of pride. "A Princess of the Southern Water Tribe and master waterbender, on the other hand, can hardly be called a peasant."

His eyes darkened and a muscle twitched in his jaw. "A swine dressed in pearls is still a swine."

"Agree to disagree," she shrugged, too casually. Katara let a corner of her mouth turn up as her eyes fixed boldly on his. She had the upper hand now. "Back to the reason I'm here. You're Zuko's father. You must be a living, breathing arsenal of dirty secrets that could ruin him if they got out. Or at the very least, I know you'd jump at the chance to plant lies in the name of discrediting him. Truth or lie, it doesn't matter to me. I just need him to see why he made a mistake not choosing me. His reputation comes under fire, the ground under his feet gets a little shaky, and all the while I'm standing by him, supporting him and dispelling the rumors like cool water on a burn. He'll see where he went wrong in leaving me and come running back."

"Hmm… A tempting offer indeed, extorting my worthless son from inside the very prison he locked me in. But why come to me? Why not make up the rumors yourself?"

Katara smiled a little. "You're a manipulator. The best of the best. Or the worst, depending on how you look at it."

"I prefer to think of myself as an outcome engineer. But what I'm not is a philanthropist. What exactly do I get out of helping you?"

"You get to not die," she said dangerously, raising up on her knees as her hands gripped the bars.

He laughed again and her stomach boiled. "I'm sentenced to rot in this cell for the rest of my life. Death would be a welcomed reprieve. You'll have to try harder than that."

"Fine," she scowled, grudgingly sitting back again. "What is it you want?"

Ozai leaned his head back against the wall and studied her through narrowed eyes. His expression was droll, almost amused. "I'm curious. How are you planning to get back in here time and again for our little intrigues? The guards will not be so easily dispatched the second time around. They'll be ready for you and you'll be caught like a fish in a net."

"If that's what you think, then you have no idea who you're up against."

"I see," he lulled, the smirk on his face growing wider. "Then what do you plan to do when your precious Fire Lord gets word of the assault? I don't have to guess at the brutish methods a waterbender must have used to cut through the Prison Tower guards with such ease."

Her eyes went wide. How hadn't she thought of that? Even if the guards hadn't known what hit them, when the news reached Zuko she was sure it would be obvious to him what had happened. Bloodbending. Who else in the capital city would be capable of such force over six powerful soldiers? Stupid! She had gotten so wrapped up in her jealousy and the sweet taste of justice that she hadn't gone in with a clear head.

"Having held the position of Fire Lord, however, I happen to know that there's a tunnel that leads from the crypts below the prison to a burrow on the city's western border. Pilfer a guard's uniform on your way out and you should be able to come and go fairly easily with a little caution."

Katara blinked. She hadn't expected that. The plan was so simple it was almost too easy. Why was he suddenly so eager to offer a solution? Something inside her nagged a warning but she stamped it out. What choice did she have? She realized as her clammy palms twisted against the bar that she no longer had the upper hand.

"You still haven't told me what it is you want. Why so eager to help all of a sudden?"

"My terms will be revealed when it is of most benefit to me."

"No!" she snapped. "Everything on the table now or there's no deal."

Ozai cocked his head and raised an incredulous eyebrow. "It seems to me you're in a poor position for bargaining. You have my offer, waterbender. Take it or leave it. I, unlike you, have nothing to lose."

They sat locked in an intense stare. Katara's upper lip quivered at the way he settled back against the wall with exaggerated casualness and a smug expression. He raised a deliberate eyebrow, as though he knew what her answer would be. The only answer it could be. She hated to admit it, but Ozai was right. He had nothing to lose. She on the other hand… She had everything to lose no matter how she looked at it. But if she didn't take a risk to win Zuko back this way, she would spend the rest of her life wondering,  _what if_? And that simply wasn't an option.

"All right," she said finally. Her shoulders fell a degree in resignation but her cold glower didn't waver.

"Bear in mind you're delving into some dark territory. Things you may wish never to know. I won't disclose which is truth and which is false, that is unimportant for our objective. I doubt it will be pleasant for you, but if this is to work I won't sugarcoat things to make them easier for you to digest."

"And I'm not asking you to. Don't worry about me. I'm a lot tougher than I look. Nothing could change the feelings I have for him, I'm certain."

"Very well," he nodded, and a faint sneer perched upon his lips. "Let's begin."

* * *

 

Katara's foot sloshed through a stale puddle, splattering beads of murky water against the narrow tunnel walls. It was so dark she could only just make out a foot or two ahead of her. She repositioned the awkward bundle in her arms and tried to focus on not tripping. She definitely didn't want to drop the guard uniform in the slimy liquid that collected in pools at her feet. The sour stench made it difficult to breath and she tried not to think about it.

It wasn't hard, really. She had plenty else to think about.

Her mind was in a fog as she tried to process everything that had just happened. She had been prepared to receive the information as she'd said, but in the end it had still hit her like a punch to the gut. Ozai had laughed at the way the color drained from her face, but Katara stood by what she said. This wouldn't change the way she felt about Zuko. Everyone did things they weren't proud of. Everyone made mistakes. Besides, it might not even be true. She'd cling to that. Once she had Zuko back, she could forget all of it. It was a small price for winning back her beloved.

After a very long walk, made longer by the suffocating putrescence, she reached the end of the tunnel. A rusty old ladder stretched up to what looked like a hatch at the very top. Katara hoisted the bundle of clothes in one arm and began ascending the ladder with the other. It took her a moment fumbling with the latch at the top before the tiny circular door opened and a fresh breeze rushed at her face. Katara sucked it in hungrily, pulling down her mask as she drank in the cool evening air, and looked around to get her bearings.

The tunnel ended onto a quiet forested hill overlooking the capital. The top of the hatch was covered in a layer of grass; one would probably have to know it was there to even see it when it was closed. Katara wriggled her way out and stood up. The storm had given way to a peaceful hush, deepened by the slumber of night. A soft wind slipped through the leaves and joined the chorus of crickets and peepers. A scant few lights still winked off in the distance, but most of the city would be fast asleep at this time of night. It would be several hours yet till dawn. She should be able to fit in a few hours of sleep before then.

She'd gotten so good at sneaking in and out that doing so was almost an unconscious act, like breathing or blinking. She slipped smoothly and soundlessly back through the window and slinked through the halls into her room as she'd done a hundred times before. Once the door ticked shut behind her, Katara let out the breath she had been holding and felt her body relax. She stuffed the bundle of guard's clothes under her bed out of sight. And finally, succumbing to her exhaustion, she dropped onto the mass of unmade sheets and blankets, the plush mattress hugging the edges of her body as she sank into a deep sleep.

.::. .::. .::.

Like a rash wearing through her days, Katara's heart had become peppered with black voids. She had felt Zuko's distance from her like a cold wind against her skin. And the chill of it had permeated deep, soured her soul. Days of waking to the discontent of life in her skin had left her nearly numb and broken. Crushed.

But this morning was different. This morning she woke wildly wanting to live. It was in her veins trembling, in the hard pant of her lungs, in the steady stars, how much she wanted to really live. Zuko was going to be hers again. It was only a matter of when.

A rush of wind shivered the treetops from where Katara stood on the plateau, making the breath catch in her throat. Her wild brown hair whipped around her face as she watched the messenger hawk shrink to a speck in the distance. A tightness hung around her throat now, like the strong grip of a hand, and she couldn't tell whether it was trepidation or excitement. Maybe it was both.

She had actually done it. And there was no going back now. All she could do was wait patiently for the news to filter its way to Zuko's ears. It wouldn't take long. Gossip travelled fast in Caldera City. She should know, she thought with a grimace as images pulsed through her mind of palace guards and her naked body, dewy and glistening in the moonlight, being wrenched from Zuko's, the shame flushing red over his creamy skin.

Katara pressed back the deluge of feelings that bubbled to the surface as she meandered her way home through the market district. The sweet scent of freshly baked goods hung in the air and made her mouth water. She ended up returning to the house with a basketful of fresh fruits and sweetened fried dough. A little gift couldn't hurt, she thought. She had left the house early that morning and hoped she hadn't drawn suspicion. The market was to be her alibi but either way, when she returned bearing delicious foods for breakfast, her friends would be too distracted with her offering to care.

At the entrance, the guards nodded a greeting and held the door open for her as she passed through. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the grand two-story foyer, gleaming off the polished marble tiles. Katara had to squint her eyes at the brightness until she reached the bamboo floors of the kitchen. She paused before entering the room, forming a light smile on her face, and took a deep breath.

"I come bearing gifts," she announced to no one in particular as she rounded the corner to the kitchen and dining area. Aang was leaning against the counter holding a bowl of cold leftover rice. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on yet and Momo was perched on his bare shoulder, batting at the chopsticks as Aang brought a lump of rice to his mouth. Other than the two of them, the house was quiet. She had forgotten how early it was yet.

"You're up early," Aang said, hardly bothering to look up at her as he plucked up another bite.

"Yeah, well, I thought I'd stop by the market this morning and pick up some of Mimi's goodies for breakfast. She makes the best fried dough."

"Hmm," he mumbled through a mouthful of rice. Katara watched him move the fluffy white grains around his bowl and studied him as he looked down again. He had grown a lot in the year since the war ended. He was a good head taller than she was now and his shoulders were broad and strong. The muscles in his chest and arms were more pronounced, even as he leaned casually against the counter. There was a budding man now where the boy had been not long ago. But he had grown up in more ways than one. There was a subtle hardness about him now, a cynicism or world-weariness that comes with life and war and the scars both leave behind.

Katara couldn't help but notice his intense interest in the bowl of breakfast he held. He had scarcely looked at her since she arrived. She chewed her lip and looked down at the floor. The silence felt awkward so she moved to set down the basket of goods on the counter when he finally spoke again.

"Out late the last two nights. Out early this morning. You sure have been busy," He flashed a tight smile but his tone carried a note of contempt.

Katara blinked rapidly, surprised at both the barb and the way her heart leapt into her throat for a beat. Was that suspicion she heard in his voice? He couldn't possibly know…

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow in a show of offense. "What's  _that_  supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just an observation," he shrugged, too casually. "Awfully defensive today."

It definitely sounded like suspicion. Maybe she was reading into things. She tried to ignore the way her pulse was speeding up and kept her cool. She needed to shift the conversation.

"You know, Aang, I'm really not in the mood for games today," she said, waving him off before turning to him again. "I just thought I'd do something nice for everyone this morning, okay? Sheesh, a simple thank you would have sufficed."

"Did I hear someone say there's Mimi's for breakfast?" Sokka peeked around the corner, one side of his hair still matted up straight where he had slept on it. His eyes were still soft with sleep and made his goofy grin look that much goofier.

"Yep." Katara gestured toward the basket but he had already pushed past her and was on it. "Fried dough and plenty of fruit – mangoes, dragon fruit, pineap–"

"Stop," Sokka said, shoving his palm in her face. Then his fingers curled into a fist as he pressed it to his mouth and said weakly, as though holding back tears, "You had me at fried dough." He reached into the basket and shoved a giant hunk of pastry into his mouth, moaning in delight while grabbing onto the counter as though he might sink to the floor.

"Ugh, you're disgusting," Katara grimaced and shoved him playfully. "And,  _you're welcome_. Geez, doesn't anyone say thank you anymore?"

"I wush gedding to it," he burbled through a mouthful.

"Hey, goober, aren't you gonna save some for your fiancée?" Suki rounded the corner and smacked the back of his head lightly.

"All is fair in love and war," he turned to her with mock solemnity. A crumb fell from his mouth as he spoke. "When it comes to food, no man is bound by the rules of fair play."

Katara shook her head with a smirk and shared a look with Suki. "Don't worry, I brought plenty for everyone. And that was after I factored in Sokka eating for two."

"Hey, I'm a growing boy."

Suki grabbed the basket before he could protest and retrieved a few of the fried treats, swerving away as Sokka lunged to reclaim it. "Well, I'm gonna set aside a couple for Toph, just in case," she said and flashed him a keen look.

Katara smiled and let out a silent breath. Her eyes slid to Aang who was still leaning on his place at the counter, but there was an easy expression on his face now as he watched his friends bicker. The hardness that had been there before had evaporated. She thanked the spirits for Sokka's timely entrance. She wasn't sure what was up with Aang. Could he still hold a grudge about the way things had turned out between them? It seemed so long ago, she thought they'd moved past that already. Whatever the reason, she would have to be more careful in her comings and goings from now on.

.::. .::. .::.

The afternoon stretched on lazily as a blanket of dark, heavy clouds swelled over the city. The rain fell in fat drops that ticked heavily against the windows. Three games of cards, two games of pai sho, and way too many balls of fried dough, and the rain was still falling steady with no end in sight. Silence and snoring had taken the place of conversation and the friends now lay strewn about the Great Room like dirty laundry. Sokka and Suki half-dozing on the wingback sofa, Toph on the floor with her arm draped over her face, drooling, and Aang sitting cross-legged in the oversized chair in the corner. Katara watched him from her plush cushion on the other side of the room, her hands clasped in her lap. He stared endlessly out the rain-streaked window with a flat expression.

"I thought Zuko woulda been here by now," Sokka said through a yawn. His voice was jarring in the languid silence, an intrusion. "He mention anything about postponing the meeting, Aang?"

"Not that I've heard," Aang replied, still gazing out the window. "I doubt he'd want to postpone anyway with the rebels gaining traction the way they are."

Sokka grimaced and shook his head. "How could anyone seriously want that annhilistic tyrant back on the throne? Where are all these supporters coming from? It's like more crawl out of the woodwork every week."

"My guess is they needed time to rally and grow their ranks. Now that they finally have, they're finding their voice. Courage in numbers. They're getting bolder, rasher. More dangerous."

"Hmph. Zuko's got the right idea about snuffing them out before they become a real threat."

"Yeah well…" Aang finally turned. "Hopefully it's not too late." His eyes settled a beat too long on Katara before fixing on Sokka.

"Appreciate your vote of confidence, Avatar. I really do."

There was a sound at the door and when it opened, Zuko stepped through accompanied by two servants holding a large oblong umbrella with two poles on either end. Once inside Zuko brushed the escaped raindrops from his robe as the servants folded up the umbrella. He thanked them and they bowed deeply before taking their places on either side of the foyer, straight postures, alert eyes seemingly fixed on nothing.

"Sorry I'm late," he grumbled as he entered the Great Room. "Something important came up."

"Everything okay?"

Zuko's mouth opened but he hesitated. Without warning, his gaze landed fixedly on Katara. But there was something off about the way he looked at her. It sucked the breath from her lungs and left a pit in her stomach. "I'll fill you in during the meeting. Let me just get a bite to eat while you two get ready to leave." He paused and then cleared his throat slightly. "Katara, can you help me in the kitchen?"

Katara blinked with a slight intake of breath. "Oh, uh…" Her eyes flitted around the room, taking in her friends' quizzical expressions. "Yeah, sure." As nonchalantly as possible, she rose from her cushion and followed him through the archway and into the kitchen. Once separated from the others Zuko closed his eyes, his brows gathering in a brooding frown, as he rubbed his forehead. Katara waited, tense as a coiled wire, for what he was going to say. He sighed heavily and looked at his feet as he leaned up against the counter. When his eyes finally found hers, there was a dark edge to them. He studied her with unusually flinty eyes, searching, probing, for what was becoming an uncomfortable length of time.

"I was briefed today on a strange and rather alarming incident that happened last night," he said at last. "It appears someone broke into Capital City Prison and somehow managed to overpower all of the immediate guards. Each one claims that a masked intruder used some kind of magic on them, that they were all paralyzed simultaneously and then suffered heart attacks and blacked out."

Katara's blood was pumping a little faster. So that's what this was about, she thought. Did he suspect her? Probably, as she knew he would. It was a stupid error.

She willed her heart to slow and let a cool wave of calm wash over her. "That is strange," she said, putting on a perfect show of concern.

"Uh huh," he muttered coolly, crossing his arms. "Even stranger is that other than one of the guards' key rings, nothing else was out of place. Nothing stolen, no prisoners broken out." Zuko stepped away from the counter and paced slowly around to her other side, arms crossed. "You wouldn't happen to… know anything about this, would you?" He stopped directly in front of her and cocked his head, his amber eyes cutting deep.

"Can't say that I do," she replied in a husky voice, letting her unyielding gaze penetrate right back.

Zuko chewed his lip for a moment and then finally nodded. "Right. Of course. Just had to ask, you know?"

He was about to turn away when she said, "What business could I possibly have in the prison, Zuko? Have you considered that this might be the rebels' doing?"

"You think any one of the rebels has enough power to do something like this? Singlehandedly?"

"Who's to say what kind of power some of them possess? Maybe they were trying to get to Ozai, break him out."

"There was no sign of an attempt to break into my father's cell. And if they'd wanted to do that, I'm sure they would have with the keys they stole."

"Maybe it was a test of sorts. Maybe they're planning to strike again."

A muscle worked in his jaw. His gaze never veered away as he shifted from one foot to another. "You're right. I guess I should arm the prison with extra guards as a precaution."

Her hands twitched, begging to squeeze into fists, but she forced herself calm. Stupid. She had just made her life a whole lot harder. If she'd just kept her mouth shut…

"That's probably a good idea," Katara nodded. Zuko blinked hard, still studying her. His gaze flitted to her lips and back to her eyes in a breath, making her heart skip. A corner of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile, but his eyes betrayed him. "Well, I should let you get to your meeting." She flashed him a soft smile as she turned toward the door. As she took her leave, Aang was stepping through the archway and she had to turn sideways to squeeze past him.

Aang watched her go and then walked through the door to where Zuko was still standing, a resolute frown on his face.

"What was that about?" the boy asked, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

Zuko sighed heavily and shook his head. "There was a break-in last night at the Prison Tower. A bunch of guards were completely taken out."

"The Prison Tower Guards?" Aang blinked, eyes widening. "But… how?"

"To be honest, it looked like bloodbending. In the heat of it, all I could think of was the only bloodbender I know. But…" Zuko stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe and sighed, shoulders slumped. "Maybe I was out of line for questioning her like that. I mean, I should know better than to think Katara would do something like this, right?"

Aang's eyes skimmed the floor before fixing on Zuko again. "Actually… There's something I was gonna bring up to you today. Katara's been acting a little, I don't know, strange lately. And I hate to incriminate her further, but… I did see her leave the house late last night, alone."

Zuko's brows gathered low and his eyes flared dark. "What?"

"In fact, she's been coming and going a lot the last couple days. Just a weird coincidence, you know? I'm not saying she had anything to do with it. But, she was kinda sneaking around and just wasn't acting like herself."

Zuko turned his eyes down and nodded, his jaw hard. Could Katara really be responsible? And if so, what possible motive could she have? Sure, things had been tense since he was forced to break it off between them, but this was so out of character for her, and besides what interest could she possibly have in the prison? His stomach churned. Something didn't feel right.

"Look, Aang, I hate to even ask it, but I want you to keep an eye on Katara for me. You see anything suspicious at all, you tell me immediately. I pray we're just being overcautious and that she had nothing to do with it, but... we can't afford the risk of clearing her just because she's Katara."

Aang nodded grimly. "Already on it."

Legend had it that there were four pillars at the ends of the earth that upheld the veil between worlds – physical and ethereal – and as such, they also sustained the very existence of the Avatar cycle. Ozai knew that it wasn't entirely true. Of course it couldn't be true. He'd been there. It was actually two pillars.

At least one good thing had come of that Avatar whelp bending his energy into him. It had been a searing pain, an all-encompassing agony, his body and mind pumped with the boy's white-hot energy battling against his own. In those moments, he had been flooded with the boy's consciousness and centuries of immeasurable thoughts, memories, knowledge of the Avatars that had come before him. It had been overwhelming, excruciating. And incredibly providential.

He had been there at those pillars – brilliant, huge shafts of light soaring from the earth, into the sky, through the infinite cosmos. Not physically, but spiritually he had been there. And there was a part of him now, however small, that was forever entertwined with the fabric of cosmos and the Avatar spirit and the innate knowledge of the ends of the world and how to get there.

And what it would take for those pillars to be destroyed.

It was almost like the universe had wanted this to happen, as though it had been his destiny all along. To obliterate the Avatar line, severing it forever, and take his rightful place as supreme ruler of the world. His world. The Phoenix King would rise again. The boy may have taken his firebending, but in the end Ozai would take far, far more from him. And it would hurt, oh he'd be sure of that. Things were falling into place now. It would hardly be easy, that he knew.

But it might be easier with a certain waterbender.


	4. The Honorable Fire Lord

Zuko took a sip of his morning tea and glanced out the window of his office. Normally he enjoyed green tea upon waking but today he woke feeling peppy and a bit adventurous with the golden rays of the spring sun smiling through the window of his bed chamber. For reasons unknown, his thoughts had gone to his Uncle and how grateful Zuko was to have had someone who loved him guide him through his years of pain and uncertainty. He shuddered to think of where or who he might be if it hadn't been for Iroh. So today, in his honor, he had decided on jasmine.

Wisps of faintly floral steam wafted up from the cup as Zuko sifted through the documents on his desk, signing papers, stamping his seal, approving or denying various requests. He took a deep breath and exhaled with a smile, leaning back in his chair. He was making good progress and was set to finish early so he thought he might take a walk on this beautiful morning. As he bent over the next document, a knock came at the door.

"Come in," he said, not bothering to look up.

"Hey," came Sokka's voice. "You got a minute?"

There was a hint of… something in his tone. Nervousness? Zuko looked up then. Sokka was smiling, but it was the weak, forced smile of someone ill at ease. Zuko put down his pen and sat back, his brows knitting slightly.

"Uh, yeah, what's up?"

Sokka opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, and shifted on his feet. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. "I don't suppose you've been out yet this morning, or read today's paper, have you?"

That was an odd question. "No… Why?"

"Uh…" Sokka's shaky voice trailed off for a minute. "I'd tell you to sit down, but, well… you're already sitting, so…" He cleared his throat and hesitated before finally pulling a mass of thick rolled up paper from his pocket. "Here."

Sokka placed the morning newspaper on his desk in front of him. Zuko's stomach wrenched up in knots. On the front page in huge bold letters was written,  _WILD PARTIES, DRUGS, VANDALISM, SEX – THE HONORABLE FIRE LORD WITH A DISHONORABLE PAST?_

For a moment, his mouth worked but he couldn't get the words to form. He could only stare at the page in disbelief. "What?" His voice was tight, strained, barely a whisper.

"It's all over town this morning," Sokka said quietly. "The whole city's talking about it."

The sunlight that, moments before, had shone cheerful and pleasant was suddenly harsh and jarring. Mocking him with its sanguinity. Zuko leaned forward, his elbows on his desk, and rested his head in hands. "How… Where did this come from?"

"An anonymous letter sent to the news outlets early this morning, they said. It's gotta be the rebel forces trying to discredit you, weaken your image. Might even have something to do with the prison break-in the other night too. It would make sense."

Zuko blinked and looked up then. Sokka was right, it would make sense. Maybe he had jumped too far in implicating Katara. Had the growing strain on their relationship clouded his judgment?

There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke again. "Zuko… You know I love you, man. But I gotta know. Is this true?"

Zuko closed his eyes. "Yes," he croaked out finally. "I wish it weren't. It was the year I was banished, right before my mom went missing. Things were deteriorating at home – my father was becoming increasingly hostile toward me and things were tense between my parents. Azula, of course, only served as a catalyst. I wasn't in a good place. Some of the other dignitaries' kids – the kind who look perfect and proper up front – were into some pretty dark and crazy stuff behind the scenes. I got caught up in the wrong crowd and did a lot of things I regret."

Sokka sighed and stared down at the floor.

"I should have known better. The Prince of the Fire Nation… But at the time, I needed an outlet and I just… didn't care."

There was a long stretch of silence. Neither of them said anything for an uncomfortable length of time. "Alright," Sokka began finally. "Here's what I think. Most mature adults are going to be forgiving of this. You just make a public statement saying you were young and stupid then, but now you're older and wiser, and people change, yada yada, and this will hopefully blow over. I mean, who hasn't done stupid stuff as a kid, right? Besides, it's not like you were the only politician's kid doing this stuff. They're guilty too–"

"It doesn't matter, though. They're not the Fire Lord. I am."

Sokka's shoulders dropped with a sigh. He knew he was right. "Look, what's done is done. What we need to do now is get together with Aang, Toph, and Katara and work on crafting that speech you're going to have to give, like, today, and prioritize destroying the resistance before they do any more damage."

"You're right. Thanks, Sokka. You're a good friend."

" _And_  you don't know what you'd do without me, I'm the best… I know," he smiled. "We'll get you out of this, buddy."

.::. .::. .::.

Aang shook his head in disbelief as he passed the newspaper to Toph. "Who would spread lies about you like this? And why?"

Zuko visibly tensed, as though in pain, and then hung his head. "It's not a lie. I wish it were."

Aang, Toph, and Katara exchanged concerned glances. "You never told us any of this," Katara said, unable to hide the sorrow in her voice.

"Uh, yeah, I was hoping I'd never have to tell anyone and leave it buried in my polluted past." He sighed then and continued with more control. "It's probably the rebels. Trying to weaken my image, threaten my rule."

"Right. But then that begs the question how anyone would know this about you if you've never spoken about it," Aang said. "Other than the kids you did those things with, many who are now politicians themselves – would they have a reason to do this to you?"

"Not unless they were siding with the rebels," Sokka cut in. "Something we may want to look into."

Toph uncrossed her arms and shifted on her feet. "What about Azula? Any way she could have anything to do with this?"

"I've been to the asylum," Zuko answered. "Azula's kept on such tight lockdown I doubt she'd be anywhere near pen and paper, or have access to messenger hawks. Not to say anything of her mental capacity anymore to carry something like that out. Still, one thing I've learned is never to underestimate my sister. We'll keep that on the backburner."

"What about Ozai, your father?" Sokka chimed in. "You gotta admit, the timing is weird with the prison tower break-in."

"It had crossed my mind. My father would jump at the chance to ruin me, and if the rebels had found a way to be in contact with him, now would be the perfect time for him to do it with the uprising gaining steam. Still… I've been assured there have been no further break-ins and I doubt he'd be able to do much more damage with the guards on alert."

"Unless they have a mole," Toph suggested. "Someone posing as a guard but working with the resistance."

They all looked at each other. And then Aang glanced at Katara. She felt her throat constrict for an instant but quickly calmed herself, forcing her heart rate steady. She had to make absolute certain she sent off no red flags to Toph. She met Aang's gaze, unflinching, until finally he looked away with a frown.

Sokka put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "We'll help you write that speech, Zuko. We won't let you do this alone."

"And then we're gonna  _crush_  those rebel scum into the dirt like the little parasites they are and wipe them from existence," Toph exclaimed, punching her fist into her palm. "Whoever did this won't get away with it. That's a promise, Sparky."

.::. .::. .::.

Zuko walked his friends back to their house where they had agreed to start working on the speech. As the others were walking through the door into the house, Zuko pulled Aang aside.

"Hey, Aang. Can I talk to you real quick?"

"Yeah sure, Zuko. What is it?"

"I was thinking. Maybe we were a little too hasty laying the blame on Katara for the prison break-in."

Aang's brows furrowed. "Are you serious? You know how she's been acting lately."

"I know," Zuko admitted, holding a hand up. "But we have no proof it was her. And with the rebels growing more powerful and this anonymous letter meant to damage my reputation, it just makes more sense that it's connected to all that. Don't you think?"

"Then, what, you just think it's a big coincidence that Katara sneaked out in the middle of the night right before the break-in was discovered?" he scoffed.

"I think it could be. I know Katara's been taking our whole forced break-up thing pretty hard. She hasn't quite been herself. She doesn't understand how hard it's been for me too."

Zuko's face flushed and he swallowed as a look passed across Aang's face. There had been some level of underlying, unresolved tension between them ever since Aang's own relationship had fizzled with Katara. It had only been a week later that Katara and Zuko had been found on the beach together at dusk, kissing. There was nothing much Aang could say about it then, but Zuko knew how it had looked after such short a time. There had been undeniable chemistry between Zuko and Katara ever since he'd helped her confront her mother's killer. He knew in some part Aang blamed him for the dissolving of their relationship. He realized now that this was the first it had really been brought up between them.

Aang put his hands in his pockets and frowned at the floor. Zuko's shoulders sagged and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Aang, I know you might think Katara and I –"

"It's done, Zuko." Aang's eyes squeezed shut as he cut him short. "Let's just forget it." Zuko sighed as he glanced at his feet, unsure of what to say. After an awkward silence, Aang opened the door and stepped halfway through. "Give her the benefit of the doubt if you want. But I won't let her off that easy. I'm keeping an eye on her until I figure out what she's up to."

.::. .::. .::.

The candles in his bed chamber flickered as Zuko's servants worked to get his room ready for the evening. Zuko held his arms out at his sides as his servants helped him undress and change into his robe. He always felt awkward allowing them to change his clothes, draw his bath, see him in the nude. He doubted he could ever get used to it. But he tolerated it for a couple reasons. First, those servants would be out of a job and he would want a better reason than that to take away someone's livelihood. Second, if word got out that Fire Lord Zuko changed his own clothes, drew his own baths, turned down his own bed sheets, it would tarnish his image and that was the last thing he needed right now.

His servant finished tying the sash on his robe and Zuko nodded his thanks. He was about to make his way to his bath when a knock came at the door. The servant went to open it and in its place stood Katara. She hesitated before timidly stepping through. Zuko blinked, his eyebrows raised.

"Katara. What are you doing here?" He suddenly remembered that he was standing in only his robe and flushed slightly. There was an awkward silence as his servants exchanged glances and then scurried out of his chamber a little too quickly, shutting the door quietly. She had a lot of nerve coming here alone. At least the servants knew better than to tell the council on their Fire Lord, but if they gossiped and word got out…

"I just wanted to check on you after today's ordeal. Are you doing okay?"

Zuko sighed. "I'm okay. Humiliated. But okay."

"Hey," she said, as she stepped toward him. "We all have done things we regret. There's no one alive who doesn't have a dark secret they want to hide from the world. It doesn't define you. None of us see you any differently. We – I… still care about you, Zuko. I hope you know I'll always stand by you, no matter what."

Katara was before him now. Gingerly she reached her hand out for his. Her fingertips had just grazed his skin as he pulled back gently.

"I'm sorry, Katara. You know I can't do this." He took another step back and leveled what he hoped was a stern expression. "You shouldn't even be here."

"I know, but I had to see you." She glanced around the room. "No one else is here. I could stay for a little while, no one would know." She took a step forward. Zuko didn't step back.

They were inches apart, their eyes locked deeply. He wanted her to stay. Oh, how he wanted her to. But if he thought he had trouble now, he didn't want to imagine how it would magnify if she stayed and they were caught. Again. Zuko reached his hand out and allowed it to skim tenderly down her arm. Katara shivered and stepped into him, her chest pressed against his.

"I wish I could, Katara," he breathed, brushing a hair back around her ear. "But I can't. You need to go now." He couldn't hide the ache on his face as he turned from her.

"But… Zuko –"

"Please. Just go." He didn't turn around. "Goodnight, Katara."

.::. .::. .::.

Katara tightened the belt around the waist of her prison guard uniform. The chest plate was a little loose around her, the tunic and pants a little slack, but all in all she looked pretty convincing. She examined her appearance in the mirror a moment longer before pulling the helmet over her head, making sure to tuck in any visible wavy brown hairs. Her mocha skin was still visible where the helmet left it exposed from her cheekbones to chin, but it would have to do.

Her brows drew together, her lips pressing into a line as she slipped her cloak over the uniform. It hadn't worked. She had been so hopeful that Zuko would melt into her arms again and finally renounce Mai for her. Granted, it was just the first attempt, and her Zuko was still  _there_ , she could feel it. He had wanted her to stay. He wanted to be with her. It would just take a little more coaxing, that was all.

One last glance in the mirror and she snuffed out the candle that flickered on her bureau and walked toward the door. She cracked it open and waited, listening. It was well past midnight and Katara was sure her friends would have withdrawn to their own rooms by now, but she had to be extra careful now. When she was sure no one was about, she tiptoed down the hall and descended the staircase to the library. With one last glance over her shoulder, she pushed open the window and slipped through, closing it behind her.

The night air was heavy and damp, the humidity a lead weight against the oxygen in her lungs. Knowing Aang and Zuko – especially Aang – were watching her closely now, Katara was careful to pay much closer attention to her surroundings as she went. Walking briskly, risking an occasional glance behind her, she took the side roads out of the city. At the edge of the city, she had to rejoin the main road briefly before reaching the path that led up the hill toward the secret hatch and the underground tunnel system. As she turned onto the main road, a pair of guards she hadn't noticed appeared from the shadows, strolling toward her. Katara cursed inwardly and pulled her hood down farther, keeping as much distance as she could. She held her breath as she passed them and thought she had avoided their attention when one of them stopped and turned to her.

"A bit late to be out for a stroll, isn't it?" His voice was droll but there was the vaguest hint of suspicion laced within.

"Erm, insomnia," she choked out, trying to camouflage her voice. She made a point not to slow down or let them glimpse her face. One look at her helmet and they would know something wasn't right. "Night air. Helps me sleep." She needed to lose them, fast.

"Ah, my sympathies, citizen. I'm an insomniac myself, and I know how–"

With the slightest flick of her wrist, the guard inexplicably slipped and fell, hitting his knee hard on the pavement. He moaned in pain as the other guard jumped to his aid, forgetting all about her. Katara walked faster and didn't dare look over her shoulder as she scurried onto the nearly hidden path up the grassy hill.

The hill was long and steep and the humid air made the trek more difficult than it should have been. When she finally reached the top, she stopped and looked down over the city. The few lights that winked sleepily in the distance glowed fuzzy in the thick haze. There was no sign of followers and Katara sighed, finally relaxing her shoulders, reminding herself to look more closely for guards next time.

It was difficult to locate the hatch in the dark, as hidden as it was with grass growing over it. But after some searching she found it and reached into her pocket for the key ring she'd kept from the guard. Metal scraped on metal as she guided the key to the keyhole, half-blinded in the darkness, and then it slid in. The hatch unlocked with a click and she hoisted it open, sending a low groan reverberating into the tunnels below.

Katara took a deep breath and climbed down the clammy iron ladder, securing the hatch after her. At once the last wisps of fresh air were extinguished and the pungent stench of the tunnels made her breath catch in her throat. Forcing herself to breathe through her mouth, she did her best to ignore the reek of mystery slime at her feet and slinked through the labyrinthine tunnels. Periodically, she had to stop to check the map she'd swiped from Zuko's office wherever the tunnels split off in different directions, and she was starting to wonder if she'd made a wrong turn when she finally came upon the iron door that led into the prison. She pulled out the key ring and unlocked the bolt as quietly as she could, but the click still echoed off the walls of the tunnel and she cringed, waiting. When no guard came bursting through the door to investigate, she opened the heavy door just enough to slip through and bolted it shut behind her. She stopped, hardly daring to breathe, listening. When she was sure no one had heard, she slipped off her cloak and stuffed it into the corner by the door.

This side of the prison contained no cells, only a hallway that led from the center of the prison to the tunnels, so there were no guards in immediate view. Katara let out a pent-up breath and then smoothed out her uniform, straightened her posture and squared her shoulders, and turned the corner at the end of the hall, walking casually and confidently into the main prison area. She passed two guards patrolling the main corridor. One ignored her but the other looked up, locking eyes with for a beat too long. Her throat tightened as she walked past and she could still feel his eyes burning into her. But thankfully he said nothing and she turned the next corner down the long hallway that led to Ozai's cell.

She put the key in the lock and opened the door just enough to slip through.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," came his velvety voice. "Miss me already?"

She scowled and ignored him, stepping to the edge of the bars that contained him and crossed her arms. "There's a small problem. Aang and Zuko suspect something. They're watching me like a hawk. If this is going to work, I'll need an alibi. A convincing one."

"Yes." Ozai leaned back where he sat against the wall, taking a breath and crossing his arms. "Tell me, how  _is_ your romantic life these days?"

Katara cocked an eyebrow and blinked hard. "Uh, what? How about, none of your business…"

"From the sounds of it, rather lifeless I'd say. Which is quite a shame. Such beauty going to waste."

The way his amber eyes skimmed her body made her heart lurch. "If there's a point to this, I'd like to get to it now," she snapped.

"Your new boyfriend, Matsu – a handsome young rebel, though you can leave that part out – will meet you by the pond outside the city, by the abandoned house at midnight tomorrow. You two have been meeting in secret so as to avoid unwanted scrutiny and publicity until your relationship grows more serious. Or so your alibi will go. And since you are being watched, our correspondence henceforth will be sent through Matsu. Does this satisfy the lady?"

Honestly, was this man capable of saying anything without sarcasm or disdain? Katara swallowed what she wanted to say and simply nodded with a frown.

"Since you're here, we can work on the next installments of Zuko's humiliation. Any more after this will be sent to you through Matsu. Speaking of which, has word made its way to our dear Fire Lord yet?"

"Yes," she said, casting her eyes down. "It didn't work the way I'd hoped. But I think it will. He was almost there."

"Then perhaps a little more persuasion will do the trick."

"That's the plan."

Ozai studied her for a moment and a smirk formed on his lips. "It's rather amusing – you working alongside the rebels, who are trying to dismantle your Fire Lord, in an attempt to win him back to you. For all intents and purposes, one might say you  _are_  one of the rebels."

Katara scoffed. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Then please tell me how what you're doing isn't also helping  _their_  cause. How are you any different from them?"

Katara took in a small breath, her brows drawing up. She'd never thought of it that way.  _No._  No, what she was doing wasn't the same. The end objective was completely different. Maybe… maybe the methods were similar, but she was definitely not…

"I know what you're thinking," he lulled as she stared hard at the cold stone floor. "Your intent is not the same, so you can't be compared to them." He gave a soft, low chuckle. "Tell me – if intention is the only distinction separating you from them, then I'm afraid, my dear, you  _are_  them. You are no different. It all looks the same from the outside."

"Shut up!" she bit out. "Shut up before I call off our whole agreement! Then you will get  _nothing_  from me but a cold vicious laugh as you rot away in this filthy cell."

"Dangerous words for someone in such an easily compromised position. You don't think that in one instant I could expose you for what you're doing? A traitor to the Fire Lord. Is that how you want to be known?"

"You'd have no proof…" Katara hesitated, grasping for something, anything. "No one would believe you."

"You've planted all the evidence I'd need yourself. The prison tower, the sneaking out, odd behavior. It wouldn't take much convincing. And speaking of blackmail, how do you think I plan to get correspondence to you through Matsu from inside this prison?"

Katara blinked, eyes widening. "One of your guards…"

"He's had affairs with several dignitaries' wives. I knew about it when I was Fire Lord. Amazing what people are willing to do to keep a secret from getting out, isn't it?" He fixed a meaningful stare on her and she glared back.

"So that's what we're doing now? Blackmail me if I don't do what you want?"

"You can call it blackmail. Or you can call it a mutually beneficial relationship." He tilted his head and smirked harder. "I do hope Zuko comes around soon. I'm getting a little restless. Soon time to fulfill your end of the deal."

Ozai winked as Katara glowered, her brow quivering. It was her own fault. She left too many loopholes, made too many mistakes. The worst of which was getting involved with a skilled manipulator.

"Give me the worst you have on Zuko. Don't hold back." she said through gritted teeth. "Let's get this over with."


	5. Voice of Treason

Zuko paced, wringing his hands. His long black and red robes billowed behind him. The sky was turning pink now and he took a quick glance at the clock, his stomach churning. He shut his eyes in concentration and muttered the words he'd been rehearsing over and over under his breath. He and his friends had worked into the night on the speech, carefully and painstakingly choosing just the right words and phrasing. The words he was set to speak this morning would soon go global and they had to be perfect.

Most of the morning was a blur. Before he knew it, he was in the palanquin on his way to the town hall where a mass of people would be waiting to hear what he had to say for himself. His stomach was a jumble of knots.

He arrived and was escorted into the building. Two of his bodyguards ascended the platform first, followed by Aang, Sokka, Toph, and then Katara. They took their places behind the podium where Zuko would stand, clasping their hands in front of them in the proper political way. Then Zuko ascended with Mai at his side, with two last bodyguards at the end.

As Zuko passed his friends, he locked eyes briefly with Katara before taking his place at the stand. Mai stood just behind him to his right.

Aang stepped forward and placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "You can do this, Zuko," he said, squeezing. "We'll be right behind you."

Zuko swallowed hard and stepped up to the podium. A hush quickly fell over the room as a large crowd of faces, made up of both citizens and journalists, anxiously awaited what he had to say. He cleared his throat and began.

"I come to you today to address an ugly chapter in my personal history. And I come to you today to offer up my sincerest apology for the things I did during that time. It is important to me that everyone who may feel shocked and hurt know that the sorrow and shame I feel is genuine." He took a deep breath, struggling to untie the knots in his stomach as he continued. "I will not insult anyone by offering excuses for my past behavior. It is inexcusable, and I would humbly ask for your forgiveness. And I believe that to be forgiven, more than sorrow is required. Genuine repentance must be present, a determination to change and to strive to be a better version of oneself each and every day. I believe I have proven myself in this regard. I learned many things, and gained a lot of wisdom and perspective during my years away that has helped to shape me into the man I am today. And I hope to never stop learning, to always keep an open mind and a tolerant heart. I have not taken the same tyrannical, warmongering, ethnocentric path of my forefathers. Instead I have made a promise to the world to foster a new era of peace and unity. And rest assured, that's a promise I will keep until my last breath. Thank you."

There was the slightest breath of silence and then the crowd erupted in a barrage of questions, both from citizens and the press. Zuko tried to swallow the lump in his throat, steeling himself for the scrutiny that was to follow. He held up his hand and waited until the clamor died down, then nodded to a journalist in the front.

"Fire Lord Zuko, any idea who might be behind the anonymous letter? Do you intend to seek them out and take action against them?"

"I can't comment on that at this time. But I will say we have a few leads we're looking into." He nodded to a citizen in the middle row. "Next question."

"Thank you, Fire Lord," the man bowed slightly. "The letter implied that you engaged in these activities with the children of other diplomats. As citizens of this nation, I feel we deserve to know their names, if any of them are holding jurisdiction over us now." A murmuring of agreement swelled throughout the room and it was a moment before it was quiet enough for Zuko to answer.

"I understand your concerns. But I don't feel it's my place to expose any of these individuals for the unfortunate actions of their youth. This hearing is only to address my own guilt in the matter. Next." Zuko nodded to another journalist near the front.

"Fire Lord Zuko, you admit these allegations are true. Is it also true then that you  _were_  aware of the heinous things Princess Azula did during the war when you returned, and that you protected her from getting caught?"

Zuko blinked hard and shook his head. "I- I'm sorry… What?"

The journalist glanced at the notes in her hand. "That she raped, tortured, and molested prisoners. Sold orphaned children into slavery. These are the allegations in the second anonymous letter received this morning. Are these accusations also true?"

A cold sweat broke along his brow and he thought he might be sick. Zuko tried to breathe, his eyes darting across the swarm of faces in the room, staring intently as they awaited his answer.  _No…_  This couldn't be happening.

"I –" his voice quavered and he tried to steady himself before continuing. "I can tell you with a clear conscience that these accusations are  _entirely_  false.  _If_  Princess Azula did any of those things, it was without my knowledge. Had I known, I would certainly –"

"How can we believe you?" a voice shouted from the back. It was a woman of about thirty, stepping through to the middle of the crowd. "You admitted to the first one. This anonymous tipper seems to know an awful lot about you."

"I admitted to it because I want to be honest with the people I govern. And I'm being honest now in denying these charges."

The woman turned to face the people around her. "Since when are politicians honest and trustworthy? Hm?" she called out, holding her arms out. A few cynical laughs sounded and a hum of voices rose up in agreement. "How can we be sure the Fire Lord didn't protect the Princess, much less  _participate_  in these atrocities himself?"

Aang stepped to Zuko's side and whispered into his ear. "Something's not right. She's too bold, trying to fan the flames. Smells like a rebel pawn to me. We need to shut this down before it gets out of hand."

Zuko nodded and gestured to the guards in the back of the room. The crowd parted as two guards marched toward her and took her firmly on either side of her arms. As they escorted her toward the door, the woman continued, shouting now. "They can try to silence us. They can try to smother our voices. But the truth will not be silenced! 'Anonymous' is our ally! He will expose –"

Her words were muted as she was dragged out the door. The crowd was silent and Zuko gazed around the room, releasing a ragged breath.

"No more questions," he said quietly as he turned from the podium. Nevertheless, a couple more voices called after him as he was escorted to his palanquin but Zuko did not turn back and soon the crowd was dispersing in their separate directions. Zuko pitched slightly as the palanquin started and then he released a long breath, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed to wake up from this nightmare.

.::. .::. .::.

The tall, unruly grass was frosted in moonlight as Katara stood, waiting, in the shadows of the abandoned house. Aside from the occasional plink of water that dripped from the gaping hole in the roof, the night was completely quiet, removed from the white noise of the city. There was the dank scent of mildew as a breeze rustled the tattered drapes inside the broken window beside her. There were several broken windows actually, a few of which had been boarded up. Katara wondered what had happened to the people who used to live here. Why the house had been left to rot in this condition. It had been this way as long as most people could remember, and everyone you asked had a different answer. No one seemed to know.

She crossed one arm over her stomach to hold her other elbow, her uncertainty growing. It had to be past midnight now and she was starting to wonder if he was coming when a rustling sound came from behind her.

Katara turned to see a tall cloaked figure approaching her. Even though she knew who it would be – really, the only person it could be this far out of the city – her stomach still tightened, her mind summoning a hundred terrible scenarios in the beat of a heart. She gulped and took a step forward.

"Katara, I presume?" came a young man's voice. He pulled his hood off and finally she could see his face. Though his features were dimmed by the shadows, she could see he had attractive almond-shaped eyes, high cheek bones, and a strong jaw line. Her new boyfriend wasn't too shabby, she thought with a smirk.

"Yes, I'm Katara. Matsu is it?"

He nodded. "Fire Lord Ozai would like me to inform you that, going forward, the blackmail letters will be sent through me so as to remove you from further suspicion. Should you need to contact each other, you will meet with me and I will deliver the message on your behalves."

The first thing that struck her was that he still referred to Ozai as Fire Lord. The second thing was how he spoke every word as though he'd memorized them from a script. And the third was that any last semblance of control she had on the situation was just wrenched out of her grasp.

"Wait… So, that's it? I just suddenly have no say in any of this anymore? This was all  _my_  idea, he can't just –"

"Hey, don't kill the messenger, alright?" he retorted, holding up his hands. "Fire Lord Ozai knows what he's doing."

Katara's lips formed a tight line. "Fine," she said through clenched teeth. They stood in silence for a moment. Matsu's posture relaxed slightly as he placed his hands in his pockets. Katara crossed her arms. "So…  _boyfriend_. You have a girlfriend?"

He exhaled a laugh and glanced at his feet. "Only you."

"Really? I'm flattered," she simpered. Then after a pause, she continued more seriously, "So… I have to ask. What made you choose to join the rebellion? Do you really think putting Ozai back on the throne would be a good thing?"

Matsu stood up taller and broadened his shoulders. "We were a strong nation under Ozai. Powerful. Now Zuko wants to soften us, weaken us. Bring us down to the level of our enemies."

"They don't have to be your enemies. The four nations should live and work together in harmony. That's what Zuko sees. He wants to restore the ways of the old world, before the Fire Nation rose up against –"

"I know you're not a rebel sympathizer," he interrupted, his tone scathing. "I understand you side with Zuko and you're only here for one reason. So we can agree to disagree. But like it or not, our numbers are growing, and that shows that more and more people are coming to the same conclusion. The Fire Nation was at its most powerful under Ozai's rule, and Zuko's trying to snuff out our greatness. Zuko can only fight us for so long, but soon we'll be strong enough to overtake him and reinstate the rightful ruler of our superior nation."

Katara snorted and shook her head, her brows drawn low. "That's not gonna happen."

"We'll see," Matsu shrugged, too casually. His gaze lingered on her a beat too long and there was a dull pang of unease in her gut. He turned and started to leave, then looked over his shoulder. "See ya around," he winked and then walked away, leaving her standing in the shadows.

.::. .::. .::.

Zuko lied back on his bed. Mai reclined next to him, her head propped up on her hand. His eyes were closed as she played with his hair and gently massaged his scalp. Neither of them had spoken much since they had come to his room – they didn't have much to say – but Zuko found he relished the silence and Mai's cool, collected presence.

"I'm surprised your meeting with the ambassador is still on for this evening, considering everything." Her voice was unexpected and Zuko opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed.

"The ambassador has no reason not to come. The world still has business to attend to as we try to instate a new normal. And anyway, if I canceled it, it would only make things look worse. I have to carry on as normal. I can't let this bully think he's won anything."

"Hm," she nodded, raising a brow slightly. "Good point."

There was a soft knock at the door and then a servant entered, clasping his hands and bowing deeply. Zuko and Mai sat up, blushing slightly. "Forgive my intrusion, your Majesty, Lady Mai. Ambassador Chang has arrived."

Zuko and Mai were escorted through the palace to the grand dining hall, where the ambassador stood before the long, ornately set table joined by Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph. He was a man of about forty, Zuko guessed. His dark hair was peppered with greys and beginning to recede. He was of medium height but a somewhat stocky build, with a rounded gut that suggested a bit too much saké. The ambassador bowed regally as Zuko entered and Zuko nodded graciously.

"Ambassador Chang, it is our pleasure to have you here this evening as our honored guest. I hope you will enjoy your time with us, and I look forward to a fruitful meeting together."

"The pleasure is entirely mine, your majesty. Avatar," he bowed again toward Aang. "This has been a warm and hospitable welcome indeed."

Zuko and Mai took their places on either ends of the table and then finally everyone was seated. An elaborate six course meal was served, featuring some of the Fire Nation's rarest and finest delicacies. The ambassador seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself, and after the last course he sat back in his chair with a smile, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

"That was most excellent, your majesty. I can't say I've ever tried sea cucumber prepared that way before today. Delicious!"

"I'm very pleased to hear it, ambassador." Zuko placed his napkin upon the table and sat back. "Well… if everyone's had their fill, may I suggest we commence our meeting?"

The ambassador nodded and they all rose from the table. Sokka, Katara, Toph, and Mai exchanged a bow with their guest and went their separate ways. Then Zuko and Aang led the ambassador to the throne room to conduct their business. The conversation varied from the mundane to the more difficult issues, and much of it revolved around the rebel movement and how the four nations might work together to crush it before the new, fragile world peace was destroyed.

"If I may speak freely, Fire Lord… These allegations coming out against you… Please don't take my mention of it as judgment, as I admire your majesty for the way in which you addressed these very difficult and personal missteps of your youth. But in order to effectively eliminate this rebellion, we must act to find this perpetrator before he fans the flames irrevocably."

"I agree. Which is why I would like to get the Concord Assembly involved. If international council members from all four nations are working together, it would increase our chances."

"Very true. After all, you instituted this assembly for just such a purpose. I believe an appeal to them is our next step. I will stand alongside you all the way."

Zuko smiled, relief flooding over him. Maybe things were starting to look up. "Thank you, ambassador."

After the meeting, the ambassador followed Zuko and Aang to the grand foyer where Mai, Katara, Toph, and Sokka joined them to say their farewells. There were many pleasantries exchanged, a few gracious bows, and then the ambassador descended the stairway of the veranda out into the courtyard, toward where his servants and palanquin waited just beyond the gate.

A few steps into the courtyard, the ambassador paused. Zuko thought he might turn around to say one last thing. But he didn't speak, and he didn't turn around. Instead, with a quick, sharp groan he crumpled to the ground in a heap, and his servants erupted into an uproar, clawing at the gate.

Zuko gasped, frozen in shock. But Sokka dashed down the stairs to kneel by the ambassador, putting two fingers to his neck. Aang, Toph, and Katara ran after him. Zuko couldn't move. He felt Mai grab his arm and drag him behind their friends.

"Ambassador Chang!" Aang shouted. "Is he okay?"

There was a pause where no one dared to breathe. Sokka blinked and looked at them, eyes wide. "He's dead."

"No... No, NO!" Zuko panicked, wrenching his arm from Mai's grasp and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. "What do you mean he's dead?! He was just alive!"

"I don't know, but now he's dead! There's no pulse."

"Oh my gods… Oh my gods! What am I gonna do?" His head was swimming, the world was closing in. "Why couldn't he have waited to die till he was  _outside_  the palace gates?"

Toph held a hand up. "Okay hold on, let's all just try to calm down –"

"This is going to destroy me on top of everything else! I'm finished. That's it. I'm done for. Oh my gods…"

"No, Zuko," Mai said calmly, placing a hand. "You're not. We'll get through this."

Zuko spun around and looked at the ambassador's limp body on the ground. "We need to hide the body."

"Hide the body?! Are you insane?" Aang exclaimed. "That makes it seem like we murdered him."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Zuko, we can't just hide the body. I'm pretty sure the Earth King would notice his ambassador is missing."

"Yeah, not to mention all the servants who just watched the guy drop dead," Katara added.

Everyone exchanged anxious glances as the servants continued to shout at the gate.

"Ugh… This is such a nightmare! … What am I gonna do?"

"The only thing we  _can_  do is notify the police," Toph said. "Anything else is basically an admission of guilt."

Zuko sighed, throwing his head back. "You're right," he resigned, his shoulders sagging. "I'll send a messenger hawk out now."

Sleep eluded him that night. When it did come, it was restless and troubled. He woke the next morning achy, wilted, dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes. He picked around his plate at breakfast, the food like sawdust in his mouth. His thoughts were deep in a twisted reverie, his mind far away, so it wasn't until a hand came down on his shoulder that he heard voices calling his name.

"Zuko."

He blinked and looked around, as though wondering how he got there, and then became aware of Mai at his side, her hand on his shoulder, joined by two concerned looking servants.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Your servant came to get me, said you weren't responding to him."

Zuko nodded. "Sorry. I'm fine. Just tired."

"Okay… well, there are two investigators in the foyer asking to see you. They have a few questions about the ambassador's… passing."

Zuko felt like his stomach was trying to squeeze into his throat. He closed his eyes and released a short breath before rising and making his way to where the investigators were waiting. A black-haired man with a mustache, a stocky man with brown hair and mutton chops, and a tall slim man with graying hair and a sharp beaked nose all bowed deeply.

"Good morning, your majesty," said the mustached man. "We apologize for interrupting your morning like this, but you understand we have obligations…"

"Of course," he nodded, trying to put on an air of confidence.

Zuko showed the men where they had dined last night, the throne room where they had conducted their meeting, and the courtyard where the ambassador had been taking his leave when he'd collapsed. Their questions all seemed fairly routine until the slim, beaked nosed man asked, "Was there any animosity during the meeting? Any reason you might have quarreled with the ambassador?"

Zuko was taken aback by the question. "No. Why would there be?"

"The recent scandals, for one. Shame can make a different man of any of us."

He stared at the man through narrowed eyes, blinking. "What are you asking exactly?"

"Just if you might have had any reason to act out against the ambassador," mutton chops answered.

"What, you think I killed him?! That's absurd."

"Look, we're not saying that, we're simply doing our jobs, looking at all angles."

"Avatar Aang was with me the whole evening, he'll vouch for everything I'm saying. It was an uneventful meal followed by a cordial, productive meeting. And then as he was leaving he just… fell in the courtyard. Died instantly. Maybe he had an unknown heart problem or health issue."

"How about the food? The drinks? Who prepared and served them?" the mustached man asked.

Zuko shook his head and sighed, glancing at the floor. "Just the regular kitchen and serving staff."

"Anyone new?"

He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped and blinked. "We– Uh… Well, I think we brought on a new sous chef a couple weeks ago, but–"

"And this sous chef – you approved his employment?"

"Well, yes, but the Fire Lord has to approve all members of the palace staff."

The three men exchanged glances. "I think that's all for now. Thank you for your time, Fire Lord."

"Wait – that's it?"

"We'll let you know if we have any further questions." They bowed and then turned to leave.

Zuko's hands balled into burning hot fists. He wanted to order them to stay, to demand an explanation for their guarded tones and shifting glances at each other. He was the Fire Lord and they would leave when he allowed them to leave. But instead he just stood there, unable to speak, berating himself for his pathetic weakness, and watched as they filed through the grand doorway into the courtyard and were gone.

.::. .::. .::.

The next morning, Zuko must have risen at the normal time. His servants must have bathed him, changed him, and brought him his usual tea. He must have done all those things but he couldn't remember doing them. He couldn't remember what he had for breakfast. If he'd even eaten breakfast. It was mid-morning now and Zuko found himself suddenly in the war room surrounded by Aang, Sokka, Katara, Toph, and Mai. Their voices were muddled, distant, a language he didn't understand. How did he get here? He must have walked, but it was as though his body was vacant, his spirit only stopping by to check in. He was numb, hollow–

"What do you think, Zuko?"

Zuko blinked slowly. "About what?"

The others looked at each other and then Toph looked at Zuko, cocking an eyebrow. "You okay, Sparky?"

"There's talk all over town about the ambassador dying at the palace the other night. There are rumors you even poisoned him. You need to have another town hall meeting pronto to squash this nonsense and set the record straight."

His gut roiled. It just couldn't get any worse. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. When he looked back up his face was languid. "Right. Should we do that now, then?"

There were shifting eyes and concerned glances. But the others must have agreed because the next thing he knew, Zuko was inside the palanquin on his way to the town hall. His body jostled easily with the movements as he sat, slumped over with his arms on his knees. Zuko had asked for the curtains to be drawn, part for privacy and part because he couldn't bear to make eye contact with anyone until he absolutely had to. He wasn't sure what he planned to say once he faced the people. What could he say, really, beyond  _I know this looks bad but I didn't kill him, please believe me, this is just really bad timing –_

The sudden piercing shouts of a mass of voices wrenched him upright and Zuko didn't even have time to think before there was a jolt and the palanquin lurched hard to the side, throwing him off balance. Zuko held onto the seat and tried to pull the curtain aside when another jolt came, the shouts more deafening, his palanquin bearers shouting back. The palanquin pitched again, farther this time, teetering before it finally came crashing to the ground. Zuko was thrown from the palanquin, his head colliding with the pavement, a dull crack in the uproar. He struggled to his hands and knees, his vision blurry from the impact. Several hands were on him then, seizing fistfuls of clothes, dragging him. And suddenly he found himself in a sea of bodies, insults flying, hands clawing, fists punching, legs kicking. There was a sharp blow to his gut and the air was leeched from his lungs. Something trickled down the side of his face and he realized distantly that it must be blood. The world was still teetering from the impact, his eyes couldn't focus and Zuko thought he was going to vomit.

Suddenly there were several powerful bursts of fire and the mob parted, some fleeing the blasts, others charging in rage at what Zuko could now see were his bodyguards surrounding him. And rushing from the palanquin behind his own were Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka. Zuko was struggling to his feet when they grabbed hold of him, pulling him away from the mayhem, barking threats at any who dared to come closer.

Half dragging him, they fled the scene and were relieved when they were not pursued. The crowd was disbanding behind them, broken up by the bodyguards and police force that had arrived on scene. But they didn't stop running until they reached the palace gates. It must have been the sight of Zuko's condition and the urgency and shouting of those dragging him that made the palace guards' faces drain of color. The gate was opened hurriedly and slammed shut behind them and they barely made it through the courtyard and into the grand foyer before they collapsed in exhaustion.

As they tried to catch their breath, the friends exchanged shattered looks. No one said anything. What was there to say? The revolt was starting.


	6. Less Terrible

Dinner that night was quiet and tense. A few bites were eaten, but mostly the food was picked at and moved around plates, the clicking of chopsticks against their dishes jarring in the thick uneasiness. Mostly eyes were downcast, staring at the lumps of rice and meat set before them, but Katara stole a glance at Zuko. The wound on the side of his head had been cleaned and tended to by healers, and the hair there was thick and shiny with herbal salve, but it still looked red and angry. Painful. He had dark circles blooming beneath his eyes and his expression was hollow, staring into nothingness. She looked back down at her plate, a pang of sorrow and guilt piercing her heart.

A moment later there was the grating of a chair against the floor and Katara looked up to see Zuko standing, turning away from the table. "Excuse me," he mumbled under his breath and walked out of the room. There were concerned glances and a moment of hesitation before Mai spoke up.

"I'll go to him," she said, placing her napkin on her plate. Her gaze settled a moment too long on Katara with just the subtlest curl of her lip, and Katara's jaw clenched as she fought back the burning glare behind her passive expression. There was a smug, spiteful sneer in Mai's eyes as she stood from the table and went after him. Katara's insides burned and her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands as she watched that woman go to comfort the man who should have been hers.

.::. .::. .::.

When Zuko entered his chamber, his servants were waiting, faithful as always, to tend to him. Though they were unquestioningly devoted and performed their duties with care, Zuko couldn't help but feel suffocated at times. He waved them off brusquely and they scattered, leaving him in peace.

Zuko closed his eyes and took in a long, deep breath. And as he exhaled he brought his hands up and the candles that flickered in the sconces along the walls grew dim. His head was pounding, the wound there throbbing still. Gingerly he touched it and examined his fingers. It wasn't oozing anymore. That was something at least.

A soft knock came at his door. He rolled his eyes shut and his jaw tightened. Why couldn't he just be left alone? Zuko opened the door and didn't say anything when he saw Mai standing there. Instead he just turned and left the door open. Mai followed him into the large, regal chamber but he didn't turn around to face her. Neither of them said anything for what felt like a long time.

Finally, Mai came up behind him and placed gentle hands on his shoulders, massaging them. "I know things are terrible right now and it feels hopeless. But I also know one other thing. And that is that you are a fighter. You're tenacious and resilient, and you've always found your way out through adversity. With all you've been through and overcome, this won't be the end of you now. I won't let it. I'll fight with you and we will defeat this, and come out stronger for it."

Zuko turned his head toward her and she nuzzled her nose against his cheek with a gentle kiss that lingered and became another kiss at the corner of his mouth, more heat behind it. Zuko let himself melt into it, returning the kiss with his own.

"Don't forget who you are, Zuko." Her voice was husky, almost a whisper, as her lips moved against his ear. Her warm breath caused a bloom of goosebumps on his neck. "You are the Fire Lord, a force of strength the world can still only dream of contending with. Your quest for peace and change is admirable…" She wrapped her arms around his chest, her breasts pressing into his back. "But don't let it cloud your vision to the incredible power you possess. You may disagree with the way Ozai and Azulon conducted their rule. But they would not have hesitated to squash these angry peasants and stop this nonsense, the interrogations, the investigations. With one word, it would have all disappeared." She craned her neck farther over his shoulder to look into his eyes. Her expression was firm and unyielding. "You have the power to kill this now. To shut it all down, silence all the haters, and in doing so, leech a great deal of power from the rebels. To show them you are a dire force to be reckoned with."

Zuko studied her face, her adamant gaze, for a long moment and then looked away. A muscle worked in his jaw as he ruminated on her words. He wanted to interrupt any talk of the sort, refuse to do anything that might mirror the corruption of his predecessors. But his angry, desperate heart soaked up her words like water on dry earth and instead he found himself for the first time in a place of sick respect for his father, for his unflinching ability to do whatever needed to be done to defend his dominion. There was something to be said for that. He was disgusted with himself, and yet he couldn't bring himself to deny the truth of what Mai said.

"I know what you're thinking. You don't want to lower yourself to your father's level." She turned him fully around to face her now. The soft glow of a candle flickered from its place on the wall, casting half her face in shadow. Her golden eyes where the light caught glimmered like embers. "You are honorable, and a good man, Zuko, and that's why I love you. But even good men have to do bad things sometimes to breed a greater good."

Mai caressed the scarred side of his face and Zuko closed his eyes, lowering her hand and turning his face away. But she brought her other hand to his good side, turning him back to face her and this time he didn't turn away. She cupped his face, leaned in, and kissed him slowly. Zuko mindlessly parted his lips to deepen the kiss but didn't close his eyes. Katara was right of course. He didn't have the feelings for Mai that he did for her. Maybe he never would. Her kisses didn't make his insides burn or his breath hitch. But he did care for her. And in that moment, her lips were warm and soft, and her touch gentle and comforting. So he let himself relax into her as she raked her fingers through his hair.

"Just think about it," she said with a smirk, breaking away for just a moment before joining their lips again.

Her tongue slid along his bottom lip and he gave a throaty moan, all thought abandoned, putting his hands around her waist and pulling her firmly into him. He nibbled his way to her earlobe and she gasped, her breaths growing heavier, as his tongue skimmed the tender skin there. Her fingernails pressed into his neck and he couldn't help but smile at her reaction to him.

Zuko guided her to his bed, their lips never parting, clothes falling to the floor along the way. Mai pushed him down and crawled on top of him, straddling his waist and planting hot kisses along his bare chest. Zuko entwined his fingers in her hair, his eyes rolling back as her lips descended down to his navel, down farther still, her mouth so hot on the sensitive skin. And by morning, Zuko was reassured that their love, hollow as it was, could still be filled to the brim and replaced by pleasure.

They awoke entangled in satin sheets. Mai smiled softly as she stroked the line of his brow. "I was thinking," she said, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. "What if we move up the wedding?"

Zuko raised an eyebrow and propped his head up on his hand. "Why? I mean, uh, not that I don't want to–"

"Think about it. It would strengthen your rule, cement your authority on the throne with a wife to bear you an heir. Your power would be greater with a Fire Lady at your side. Two is always greater than one. And anyway, why wait? We're almost living like we're married now." She blushed and bit her lip.

A corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile and he looked away briefly. "How soon were you thinking?"

"What about next week?"

Zuko's eyes went wide and he nearly choked. He and Mai had been slated to marry late next year, and though he knew it was going to happen it had been distant enough that he hadn't had to think about it much. But now confronted with idea of doing it sooner rather than later, he felt unexpectedly nervous.

"It's all the time we'd need to make the preparations for a proper royal wedding without looking impulsive," she went on. "We wouldn't want to draw any suspicion as to our motives."

Zuko hesitated. Hesitation was bad when dealing with women, he knew, and his mind scrambled for words as her stare bore into him, suffocating him. He didn't feel ready for this but maybe he'd never feel ready until it was over. And ready or not, she did have a point. It could strength his reign and maybe in some way it could help alleviate the situation somehow.

"All right," he said, trying not to sound weak. "Let's do it."

Mai smiled and kissed him. "Should we announce the news over breakfast? I'm starving."

His stomach sunk like a lead weight. At breakfast. Katara would be there and he really didn't want see the look on her face when the word broke. But there was no way around it now. Mai got up and coaxed him out of bed, and once they were both dressed they arrived in the dining room where the others were already sitting, enjoying their food.

"Looks like they slept well," Sokka joked under his breath and Toph snickered.

Zuko and Mai sat at their places and a bowl of steaming rice and meat was placed before them. Mai plucked up a pile of sticky rice but didn't put it in her mouth right away. She looked at the others and Zuko braced himself for what was coming.

"Zuko and I have an announcement to make. We've moved up the wedding and are getting married next week."

All eyes went wide. Zuko forced what he hoped was a smile but his face felt tight and rigid.

"Wow…" Aang said, his eyes shifting between him and Mai. "Congratulations."

Unwillingly his eyes flicked to Katara and the pain etched on her face was like a physical blow. Their eyes lingered for too long, her expression pleading as tears welled up in her eyes, but she did her best to blink them away and glanced down at her plate.

"That's great news, guys," Sokka said, his tone too cheerful, strained. "We're all very happy for you."

"Elated," Toph added.

Katara didn't speak or look up again. When Zuko glanced back at Mai, he thought he saw the trace of a smug smile on her lips.

.::. .::. .::.

After that morning, none of them saw Zuko. It had been two days since then and he was refusing to let anyone near him, locking himself away in either his office or his chamber. Even Aang had been sent away several times. So when Zuko failed to appear once again at dinner that night, Katara knew she had to try again. Time was running out.

She stood now outside Zuko's office door. She took a shaky breath and tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she knocked quietly. She listened, and a moment later a voice from the other side mumbled something incoherent. Katara waited. Nothing. She knocked again and this time was surprised to hear the click of a lock turning. He was letting her in.

Katara hesitated a moment to calm the butterflies in her stomach, stood up a little straighter, and opened the door. She slipped through and it clicked shut quietly behind her. The room was dimly lit by the glow of flickering wall sconces that cast interweaving shadows throughout the grand office. Zuko sat at his desk, bent over a mess of papers and documents. His shoulders rose with shallow, strained breaths as he cradled his head in his hands, clenching fistfuls of hair. He didn't look up or acknowledge her entrance. She wasn't even sure he was aware she was standing there until he finally spoke in a slow, gritty voice.

"Every time I think it can't get any worse… I'm proven wrong all over again."

Katara's throat tightened as she tried to swallow. Despite all her planning and calculations, she hadn't fully been prepared for what it all might do to Zuko. The sight of him so agonized and shame-stricken was like a physical blow. She ignored the way her stomach roiled with guilt and reminded herself that pain was the chisel needed to sculpt out something beautiful.

Katara cleared her throat quietly. "Are you… okay?"

"I'm just fine, Katara," he grated. "Gods, how do you think I'm doing? Over the past few days I've been disgraced, humiliated, accused of covering up some horrible crimes, implicated in the death of a government official, and injured by an angry mob. It would be a nightmare for anyone. But as Fire Lord?" He scoffed. "There's talk of putting me on trial, of removing me from the throne and exiling me, assassination plots. Those are just the ones from today."

"Zuko…" She blinked, eyes widening. "I– "

"Look, I'm not really in the mood to talk right now. So…" He nodded toward the door before raking his fingers through his hair as he bent over his desk again.

Katara rubbed her hand up and down her arm, unsure of how to respond. This isn't at all how she had pictured things playing out between them. This would probably be her last chance to try to make him choose her; she had to go about it delicately. "Why are you pushing me away? Let me help you." She held an arm out as she took a small step toward him.

"How?! What can you possibly do?" His voice boomed and he stood up so fast the chair fell to the floor with a clamor. "About any of this?!" he said, waving a hand over the mess on his desk.

"I can be your friend, first of all." She kept her tone calm and soothing as she advanced toward him. "You're pushing everyone away and it's only hurting you more."

"I don't want to bring anyone else down with me. I can't have that on my head. It's best if you all just cut your ties to me." He crossed his arms and turned away, his shoulders sagging.

"That's not going to happen. Your friends won't stand by and watch you wrongfully accused of these things without doing something. Especially me."

He let out a scornful snort and spun back around to face her. "Come on, Katara. There's nothing you can do. Just for once, spare me the optimistic horseshit and be realistic."

The barb stung, but she pushed past it. "I  _am_  being realistic! You need your friends more than ever now. Why can't you see that I'm here for you, Zuko? That I will alwaysbe here for you." She closed the distance between them then, placing her hands on both of his strong biceps. He kept his face turned away. "I'm sure I can help you survive this and put it behind us if you'd just stop pushing me away. My position within the Water Tribe and my reputation among the nations would help–"

"It's not that simple," he said in a gravelly voice. "I wish it were."

She let out a defeated breath, her eyes searching his face. His gaze was fixed on the polished floor, his brow hard and creased. But he didn't move away from her. She gave a gentle squeeze where her hands still hugged his upper arms and stepped into him.

Half a step was all it took to close the distance between them. She leaned into him slightly, and though his chest rose with a sharp breath and his eyes didn't meet hers, he didn't back away. Katara slowly, tentatively, brushed her nose against his cheek. Zuko's lips parted and he tilted his chin up toward her a degree then and she could feel a soft wisp of his breath. Cautiously then, she let her lips brush against his. Her heart shriveled as he simply stood there, lifeless. A stone cold statue.

But then his lips moved against hers, ever so slightly, and his hands came up to cup her face. Katara could scarcely contain the laugh of relief that caught in her throat. His lips were pressing on hers harder now, moving with more purpose. The taste of him again made her drunk and her breathing grew ragged, his breathing grew heavier, and he snaked his fingers into her hair and entwined them to hold her there. She threw her arms around his neck as they fell back hard against the bookshelves that lined the wall. It rattled on impact and several books tumbled to the floor in a flutter of pages. They hardly noticed. Zuko pinned her back against the bookshelves, his body hot and firm against hers and Katara threw her head back in a sharp exhale as he sucked the sensitive skin of her neck.

She reached for the buttons on his robes – unclasping one, two – and he ripped the tunic off her arms so fast it made her gasp. Katara made short work of his robes as they fell to the floor in a billow and Zuko quickly unraveled her bindings and threw them aside. He bent down and hungrily explored her breasts as Katara grabbed fistfuls of his hair, moaning. Then he grasped her hips, lifting her slightly, and Katara gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist, drowning in another kiss, and then another.

Nipping her neck, Zuko hastily carried her to his bed and sank on top of her. The few clothes that remained became a heap on the floor and then there was only skin and sweat, pleasure and heat, and that intense closeness – no, intimacy – with Zuko that she had missed like clean air. They were the only two souls in the universe in that moment, and the lines separating them had blurred until even that failed to hold. They were one. Zuko was hers once again, she was certain. She could feel it.

Katara smiled, a single tear running down her temple, and arched into him. There was more urgency now, hands clawing skin, fists gripping sheets. Zuko half moaned, half growled into the crook of her neck and Katara's head was spinning with starts of ecstasy.

They slept wrapped in each others' arms that night. The chasm in her heart that had left her hollow was finally whole again and she couldn't ever remember feeling more at peace. Zuko had chosen her.

Katara woke in the morning with a smile, stretching lazily. Zuko had already risen and was donning his robe. "Hey," she said with an easy smile. "What's the rush? Come back to bed for a bit."

"I have things to attend to," he responded, not turning around. "A representative from the Concord Assembly is coming this morning to discuss the best way to deal with this rebellion before it gets worse."

"It'll all work out, Zuko, don't worry." Katara got up and shrugged on her tunic. She walked over to Zuko and stood before him, clasping his hands. "I'll be by your side through it all." Zuko let out a short sigh and squeezed his eyes closed. Katara studied him closely, a knot working into her stomach. Something was wrong. This wasn't how she'd imagined this morning would go.

"Katara… I care about you. So much. You know that." He hesitated, his mouth working. "But I  _can't_  love you. Not anymore, not the way you want me to."

"But… last night. I thought–"

"I'm sorry about last night. It should never have happened. I let my guard down, I led you on." He looked away with a pained expression. "I'm sorry."

Katara's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She put a hand to his cheek, turning him to face her again. "Zuko, please. You know that what we have is something real, something so rare and special that many go their whole lives without finding it."

Zuko took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. "I know. I wish things could be different."

Katara studied his eyes for a moment, cupping a hand to his face, and then without thinking, pressed her lips to his. He was frozen for a moment and then his lips relaxed against hers. Their mouths moved together and a tear shed down her cheek.

"Please, don't throw this away for politics," she whispered against his lips, kissing him again. "You'll never be happy with Mai."

His lips stopped moving then and he broke away from her at once, his brows drawn low. "Who are you to tell me who I'd be happy with?"

"You know it's true, Zuko," she said with a pleading tone as he turned away from her, raking a hand through his hair. She turned after him, dread setting in. "What's wrong?"

"What's  _wrong_?" he bellowed, spinning around to face her. "Spirits, Katara. What  _isn't_  wrong? I'm engaged, okay?! I've been engaged, and what we've been doing isn't right."

"That's never stopped you before."

"And I'm a shit stain on a shoe, got it! It should have stopped me. But it should have stopped you too. You know I'm getting married to Mai next week. I can't do this with you anymore. I won't. I won't do that to Mai." He stared at her harshly and the silence in that moment was thick, suffocating. "And then there's the fact that my entire world is crashing down around me, and you want to make this about us. About  _you_." He shoved a finger toward her and then paced back and forth, stopping before her with clenched fists. "Using my disaster to your advantage. I can't believe how selfish you can be sometimes. My reputation, my claim to the throne, my country, my life, even world peace are hanging in the balance. And  _this_  is what you're worried about." He scoffed with a shake of his head. "Makes me wonder if you didn't plant those rumors yourself."

Her mouth gaped and she blinked, scrambling for words. "How dare you… How dare you accuse me of… of something so despicable. Is that what you think of me?"

He sighed heavily then, his shoulders sagging. He turned his face to the ceiling, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at her again. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I know you would never…" He squeezed his eyes shut and turned from her. "Just… go, Katara. I'm sorry. But we're through for good. Just go."

.::. .::. .::.

The metal door groaned quietly shut as Katara slipped into Ozai's cell. She fell her to her knees in a huff, her head hanging, and gripped the bars that separated them. Her brows were drawn low over tightly closed eyes, quivering against the angry tears that threatened to burst forth.

"Going well, I take it?" came his silky voice.

Katara gritted her teeth at his mocking tone, her knuckles turning white where they grasped the bars. She wanted to scream. But instead she choked out, "It didn't work," her neck still bent toward the floor like a wilted flower. "He won't even see me anymore. And somehow it's only driven him closer to  _her_." The words dripped off her tongue like venom. She couldn't bring herself to say her name. "They've moved up the wedding date. They're getting married next week."

She said nothing more. The shake of her head said it all, expressed her closed hands, her bruised, shaking fists. Ozai waited, his eyes burning the space between them, for her to find the words for those feelings that didn't fit neatly into the feeble margins of sentences. But her face only twisted in anguish and there were no more words, none that could express the gaping wound in her heart.

"I'm sorry for the way things have gone," his voice came at last, soft and velvety in the murky quiet. "Zuko doesn't deserve you. You're far too much woman for him."

Katara looked up at him finally, studying his face, his passive expression. She hadn't expected sympathy, certainly not from this man. She knew it should give her pause – he was probably just toying with her – but there was a part of her that craved the pity and validation. He probably knew that too. The realization shook her back to her senses and she glared at him with renewed clarity.

"Why do you care?" she snarled.

"I'm not completely heartless, much as that may surprise you… But you're right, I don't really." He flashed a cold smirk and leaned back against the wall. "Now as much as I've enjoyed our little pastime at Zuko's expense, I think it's time you fulfilled your end of our agreement."

"Uh,  _no_. We're not finished with this yet. Zuko still won't have me and you promised you'd help me get him back."

"That ship has sailed. It's over. If he won't have you by now, girl, he won't have you. That's the hard truth you'll have to swallow. And if you recall, you agreed to carry out my terms whenever I chose to reveal them. Now is that time."

Her nostrils flared and she exhaled a sharp breath. "No. That's  _not_  how this is going to work. I can't give up when there's still time–"

"Then, my dear, I regret to say our partnership has come to an end. Good luck in all your endeavors. I will so miss our intrigues together. I seldom get visitors so interesting these days."

Her jaw tightened and she scowled at him from where she knelt, folding her arms tightly across her chest. He had full control of the situation now. She felt suddenly as though she were the one in the cage. "What is it you want?" she snarled.

A sharp smile settled on his lips. "You're going to free me from this prison."

Katara let out a biting laugh. "Right. Cause if I didn't have enough to worry about, the jailbreak of an egomaniacal warmonger on my conscience is just what I need. Why not have one of your little rebel fan boys break you out? I bet they'd be foaming at the mouth for the opportunity."

"Where's the fun in that when none of them are nearly as attractive?"

Katara felt her face flush and she snorted, gritting her teeth. "No. How stupid do you think I am?"

Ozai cocked his head to the side with a smirk. "Let's see. Stupid enough to bloodbend the prison guards and spend your nights in secret meetings with the nation's most heavily guarded prisoner, all for the sake of committing veritable treason against the Fire Lord in order to get back in his bed." He paused to let his words sink in before continuing. "Like it or not, girl, you are bound by your word to agree to my terms. Failure to carry out your end will result in your complete and utter demise. It wouldn't take much for the truth to spread and expose you for the traitor you are. You've paved your own way, it would be far too easy."

Katara could only scowl harder and shake her head. Her eyes grew hot and moist as she stilled the tremble in her lip. "You disgust me," she grated out.

"Oh, now don't be a sore loser. You should have known you had no chance of besting me, even from inside this prison cell. I mastered the art long ago."

They sat, locked in an intense stare. Katara was ashamed and appalled at her own stupidity. "So… after I break you free, what then?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. You'll have to wait, I'm afraid. Now, the guards change shift at two o'clock in the morning, and there's a two-minute window where no guards will be in direct view of my cell. The process would be fairly easy if we're quick."

Katara looked away and chewed her lip. "How can I know you won't turn on me after? Or put a knife in my back?"

"I suppose my meager word will have to suffice. Do what I say and you will be unharmed." He folded his arms across his chest with cool confidence. "Now, it's your choice. What will it be? A simple jailbreak or personal annihilation?"

.::. .::. .::.

The choice was an easy one. As easy as deciding what type of poison to drink. When faced with two terrible options, you pick the less terrible of the two. Not that Ozai could be considered less-terrible in any scenario, by any stretch of the imagination. But when compared with Zuko finding out the horrible things she had done, the ways she had deliberately ruined him, all for her own selfish motives – that would be inescapably worse. Ozai could be caught and imprisoned again. He didn't have his bending, so that was something, she supposed. Freeing him couldn't possibly be as terrible or as damaging as everyone she loved learning the truth. Her guilt, the sickening, strangling guilt that she kept jamming back down into the dark abysmal corners of her heart – that would be her punishment. She didn't have the strength or the opportunity to process it now, and part of her was glad for that. She was dreading that first quiet moment after this storm when she would have no choice but to face it.

Katara stood at the doorway into the prison, the tunnel slime pooling at her feet. Dressed entirely in black, she was just an extension of the shadows, a trick of the eye or perhaps a phantom. The mask on her face left only her eyes visible, like two sapphires in a sea of velvet blackness. She pulled the pocket watch from her cloak – one minute till two o'clock – swallowed hard and took a deep breath, counting down in her head.

… _Three, two, one…_

The key scraped in the lock and she opened the door just enough to slink through, leaving it ajar for their escape. Though Ozai had assured her no guards would be in view, Katara's heart was pounding as she crept quietly and quickly as possible to Ozai's cell. She brought the key to the heavy iron door, her hand trembling. It slid into the lock but then slipped from her hand, the key ring falling to the floor with a clank. Katara cursed under her breath, risking a glance over her shoulder as she picked it up and this time fit the key into the lock and opened the door.

Inside, Ozai was standing behind the bars, waiting for her. There was a rolling feeling in her gut as they locked eyes and she took in his size. It occurred to her suddenly that during their visits she had only ever seen him sitting. She hadn't been prepared for how large he actually was; how much more intimidating he seemed now. Something stopped her. She felt like a mouse in a trap.

"What are you waiting for, waterbender?" he growled.

She blinked and tried to swallow, her throat thick. There was no going back now. She had to hurry or she would be ruined either way. Katara brought a second key to the lock and the door groaned open.

In two easy steps, he was before her and suddenly there was nothing standing between them. Nothing left to safeguard her from this man. This very dangerous man.

"Let's go." He brushed past her and pushed open the door just enough to look out and then gestured to her to follow. They crept to the end of the passageway and Ozai stopped, peering around the corner and then darted back again.

Katara blinked. "What is it?" she whispered.

Ozai put a hand up to silence her and then she could hear two voices around the corner down the other passage. Her chest felt heavy and she could hardly breathe. As she listened, she realized the voices were fading. They were going the other way.

After a moment, Ozai signaled for her to follow him and they sneaked their way through the rest of the passages and out into the tunnels, locking the door behind them. Katara exhaled a ragged breath and slumped over, her hands on her thighs. In the shadows, Ozai was quiet and she stood up then, trying to see his face. There was only darkness.

They treaded quickly and quietly through the tunnels. It was hard to say how long before Ozai's escape would be noticed, but Katara assumed with his security status it would not be long. So they had to hurry. Finally they reached the end and climbed up the ladder and through the hatch into the open air.

Ozai closed his eyes and his chest rose deeply as he inhaled a long, slow breath of fresh air. Katara tried to imagine how it must feel after so long in that dank, musty cell. In that moment he seemed so utterly, starkly human, and for an instant she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Katara looked out over the sleepy lights of the city, lifting her mask to let the cool air kiss her warm dewy face "Okay. You're free," she said, turning to Ozai, uncertain of what was to come. "So now what?"

He turned to her with a sharp smile that made her blood run cold. "Now we're going to pay a little visit to the asylum."

The asylum? But why–? Katara's eyes went wide, her face slack, as the realization dawned her.

He was going to break out Azula.


	7. Pyre

Ozai was already stalking away and Katara stood frozen, shocked. "No way," she barked after him, slicing a hand through the air. "If you think I'm helping you do this, you can forget it! I already set you free, I've done what you asked."

She planted her feet firmly on the ground, shooting icy daggers at his back, and he stopped finally, turning. He lifted a sharp brow. "You knew it didn't end here. Don't try to play dumb now."

Her mind scrambled for words, anything that might sway him, though she knew in her heart it was a lost cause. "Azula earned her place in that asylum," she pleaded. "You weren't there at the very end, you didn't see the way she came completely unraveled. Setting her free is a huge mistake."

"The only mistake you need to be concerned with at this very moment is your own if you don't do as I say." He stalked a step closer and they stood locked in a thunderous glare. Ozai lifted his chin and his unyielding, flinty eyes bore into her as if he could see right through to her fear. Her helplessness. She was at his mercy now. Katara's fists clenched and unclenched, nails biting into her palms. She said nothing, only conceding with a glower as she pulled her mask back down over her face and followed him down the hill to the path that snaked toward the asylum.

They kept to the shadows in the woods that engulfed the path. The night was calm and quiet in the thick summer air, breached only by the occasional hoot of an owl overhead, watching them. Scolding her. Katara looked up, the tangle of branches silhouetted against the muted moonlight, the sliver of a crescent veiled in wisps of clouds. She let out a tight sigh and suddenly felt as though her life were slipping beyond her grasp, morphing into a thing she didn't recognize and couldn't control. She had never intended to make such a mess of things. For a moment she was a bystander, outside of her own body watching her life derail, bracing for the imminent crash.

The stone walls of the asylum were becoming visible now, patchy through the thinning lattice of trees. They came to a stop at the edge of the woods, obscured by the darkness, and took in their objective. Two guards stood watch outside the entrance, still as statues, their postures attentive and watchful. Ozai leaned toward Katara, his eyes on the sentry, and spoke in a low voice.

"Now, I think you know why you're here. You are to dispose of all guards and personnel you see. Consider it a grand encore to your first performance. Once we're inside, we'll be surrounded and outnumbered. We have one chance at doing this right. So be  _thorough_  about it."

"Whoa, hold on," she said, taking a step back. "I'm not killing anyone if that's what you're asking."

Ozai leveled her a searing look. "I'm  _not_  asking," he said with a threatening lift of his brow. "We do this my way. Or do I need to remind you what will happen if you refuse?"

Her stomach pinched at the warning. She didn't need to be reminded of what was at stake, what her friends – what Zuko – would do with her if they knew the truth. Not to mention what Ozai might do with her. She knew enough about him to let her imagination fill in the blanks. But senseless killing was a line she was unwilling to cross. "You can't make me murder innocent people. I won't do it. There are other ways."

"I will  _not_  take any chances–"

"No," she said firmly, surprised and bolstered by her own boldness. "If you want my help with this, you'll have to let me do it my way."

His amber eyes narrowed, a hard fist pressing into Katara's gut. She resisted the urge to swallow under the pressure and forced herself to hold his gaze. Ozai took a slow step toward her and leaned down so that he was only inches from her face. "You should thank the spirits that you serve a purpose to me here and now, waterbender." The word was an insult on his lips, dripping with bitter disdain. "I've had people killed without a moment's hesitation for less insolence." His cold, threatening glower lingered an uncomfortably long moment. Finally he glanced back at the asylum before turning to her again. "If you make so much as  _one_   _error_ –"

"I know what I'm doing. There won't be any problems." Though she wasn't sure whether she meant to convince Ozai or herself.

His mouth formed a hard line but finally he stepped back in averse resignation and nodded. Katara let out the breath she had been holding, but the dread of what they were here to do drowned out any relief she might have felt. Turning toward her targets, she took a slow breath in and lifted her arms, concentrating.

From this distance it took a moment, but there it was. The pulsing of life at her fingertips. She focused on the rhythmic pumping of blood, wrapped her energy around the beating hearts in their chests, and slowly twisted her hands, fingers bending slightly. The hypnotic rhythm was growing sluggish beneath her grip, slower, slower. She twisted her hands farther. Katara fought back the nausea as sickening guilt gnawed at her stomach and tried to focus. The two men grasped at their chests, their throats, clawing at the air as they crumpled to the ground like discarded ragdolls. At a glance, they looked dead but their pulse and blood pressure had simply been lowered so quickly they'd fell unconscious. It would be a long while before they would wake again.

Ozai glanced at her a moment. There was a trace of sick admiration in his eyes. Her stomach twisted. "Let's go."

They crept out of hiding and quickly made their way to the entrance, flattening themselves on either side of the door. With a quick look around, Ozai knelt beside one of the guards and rummaged around in the man's uniform, coming away with a ring of keys and a sheathed long sword he unhooked from the man's back. Ozai stood up and secured the weapon around his belt, then turned his attention to the door. Metal chinked together as he tried different keys in the keyhole, working as quietly and quickly as possible until finally he was rewarded with a click as the lock turned. Ozai unsheathed his sword and shot her a ready look as he opened the door, and they slipped inside.

Being that it was the middle of the night, Katara expected the lobby to be quiet. Instead, four guards were stationed in each corner of the intake room. In the center, a stern-looking woman sat at the desk, bent over a stack of papers. The guards bolted upright, assuming bending positions and the woman looked up absently. Her eyes widened to whites for just an instant before she surged up into a bending stance, the chair clattering loudly to the floor behind her.

Katara could see the woman's chest rise with a sudden breath as she looked at Ozai. "It can't be…" she said -under her breath. The other guards' expressions went slack in shock as recognition dawned on them.

"Intruder alert!" a guard roared, his voice carrying down the corridors. "Drop to the floor, hands flat on the ground, both of you! This is your one and only warn–!"

Katara thrusted an arm out and he went silent, fear washing over his face, and another arm made quick work of a second guard. The other two watched in horror as their comrades slumped to the floor and then they turned and shot multiple bursts of flame toward them.

Ozai dodged the attack with ease and then locked eyes with the intake officer. He shot her a cold smirk and charged at her, light glinting off his sword. The woman growled and took a quick stomping step forward, sending a plume of fire raging toward him. Ozai darted to the side, the flames licking at the hem of his cloak. The officer's arm shot out to launch another attack but Ozai was faster. In one quick motion, he knocked her off balance and buried the sword in the woman's chest. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she crumpled to the floor.

Ozai spun to face the last two guards and his eyes widened. Katara had one guard frozen mid-attack and the other mid-stride, her arms extended and jaw quivering with exertion. The first guard's expression was slack with terror as, against his will, his body turned toward his comrade, equally petrified, and then his body went hurtling through the air toward him, their heads colliding with a sickening thud and their bodies collapsing in a heap.

Katara breathed heavily, sweat beaded on her brow, as she turned toward Ozai. He glanced at the four guards on the floor and then back at her, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. His mouth quirked up almost imperceptibly as he nodded his sick approval, and then he motioned for her to follow as he flattened himself against the wall. From the lobby area, two corridors branched off in either direction. Ozai peered around the corner and Katara followed his gaze to a sign hanging above a door just down the right corridor, indicating a stairwell. Signaling her, they crept across the hall and opened the door, stealing inside.

Without stopping, Ozai ascended the stairs and spoke in a low voice over his shoulder. "Azula is on the fourth floor. All doors on that floor are secured with padlocks that can only be opened with a combination of firebending and a key. So I'll need one of the guards conscious."

They climbed up to the second floor, and then the third. As they neared the landing of the third floor, the door to the stairwell opened and in walked a doctor followed by two nurses, chatting quietly. When they saw Katara and Ozai, they froze, clutching at the railing. Katara disposed of the doctor and one of the nurses fairly quickly but before either she or Ozai could stop the last nurse, she darted back through the door, her shouts echoing down the corridor.

Ozai cursed and yanked Katara with him as they raced up the last of the stairwell, bursting through the door to the fourth floor. A floor below, Katara could faintly hear the chaos that was rising as the nurse alerted to their intrusion. The swell of urgent voices. They didn't have much time before they would be swarmed with guards. There was only one now in sight at the end of the hall. Ozai and Katara stormed past some terrified nurses, ignoring them, and the guard only had time to turn before Katara froze him in place.

In one quick motion, Ozai drew his sword and pressed it to the man's throat. "Princess Azula's room. Open it now."

The man's eyes went wide, his chin trembling. "Oz–?"

" _Now_  if you value your life!"

The man gave a shuddering nod and Ozai dragged his immobilized body to the door he indicated. Katara held his palm to the padlock and he shot a sequence of bursts that ended with a click somewhere in the door. The first lock had opened. Ozai ripped the key ring off the guard's belt and turned the key in the lock. The door opened and Ozai turned to the guard with a wry smile. "Thank you," he said before bringing the hilt of his sword down hard on his head.

His body drooped in Katara's hold like a lead weight and she dragged the body inside, shutting the door behind them. She rested the guard as gently as she could against the wall and pulled her sweat-dampened mask off her face for a moment as she looked around.

The room struck her as cold and unfriendly. The floors and walls were stark white and the space felt barren save for a bed, a boxy, uninviting chair in the corner, and a simple dresser upon which sat an old half-eaten plate of food.

Azula was bound in a straight-jacket, pacing back and forth and mumbling something to herself when she stopped and turned to them. Her face only pinched in a deeper frown but she seemed otherwise unfazed by their presence. She looked away again and resumed her pacing.

"Ah, father. I was wondering when you'd finally show up. Mother, mother – it's  _always_  mother. They told me the pills would make the hallucinations go away. Well, we can see how well  _that_  worked."

Katara ran a hand along her arm and glanced at Ozai. She couldn't see his face from where she stood but she guessed he must have looked as confused and uncomfortable as she felt. Katara had tried to warn him, but nothing could have prepared either of them for the shock of seeing her now, in person. The way the prodigy princess had been diminished to such a pitiable existence.

Ozai took a step forward. "Azula, you're not hallucinating. We've come to get you out."

Azula stopped finally and studied her father a moment before her gaze moved past him and settled on Katara. Her eyes widened to whites, shock melting into palpable anger. "Now I know this can't be real," she spat. "My father would  _never_ betray me by bringing that filthy water serpent into my presence. Oh, how I wish she  _was_  here so I could give her the rematch she deserves!"

"Azula," he said again, bringing a firm hand down on her shoulder.

She gasped then, peering down at his hand like it was some dangerous animal, her eyes widening as they slid up to meet his face. "Father," she rasped, blinking. "How–?"

Ozai turned her around and unlocked the straight jacket, throwing the stiff fabric to the floor. Azula closed her eyes, breathing deeply, as she stretched her arms out. Holding her hands in front of her face, she glowered at the cuffs that sat on each of her wrists. Katara noticed she had them on her ankles too. Chi blocking cuffs, she realized. Placed on pressure points to prevent her from bending.

Somewhere down the corridor came the distant, muffled sound of shouting and hurried footsteps. Katara glanced at the door. "We need to hurry."

Her voice drew Azula's attention back to Katara. This time, her face twisted in rage as reality settled upon her. There was an electric charge in the air and a tiny spark fizzled in Azula's palm despite the manacle around her wrist. Katara's breath hitched and she took a small step back. With a wild cry, Azula charged forward and Ozai yanked her hands behind her back, restraining her.

"Let me at her!" The shriek of her voice almost wasn't human. Maniacal. Untethered fury. She writhed against her father's hold, the cords of her neck standing out as she screamed. "I'll show her what a true fight is! What it means to burn!"

"Azula!" Ozai growled forcefully, shaking her. "Calm yourself or I'll be forced to do it for you."

She stopped struggling but her body still shook with fury. Her nostrils flared with rushed breathing, her ruthless glare never veering from Katara.

"All will be explained but now is not the time. We have to move." He urged her toward the door but she jerked back.

"Wait." Azula held out her wrists. "Take these off me."

Katara raised her brows and felt her stomach knot as she glanced between them. "Ozai, no."

Ozai's eyes slid to Katara and he hesitated. He fingered the key ring in his hand and studied his daughter, frowning.

"Don't," she pleaded again. She wanted to reach out and tear the keys from his grasp.

"Shut up, water wench! Father, please."

Ozai frowned harder and stepped toward Azula. "I'm not sure I can trust you to act rationally in your present state–"

Azula scoffed, her face pinched in a tight scowl. "So, you take orders from the water peasant now? My, how prison's changed you."

"Watch your tongue," he growled, shooting her a menacing look. "Or I'll teach you a lesson in respect to match your brother." He let the threat hang in the air before continuing. "I'm not sure I can trust you,  _but_  we need the advantage now." Ozai took her wrist and fitted a small key into the cuff. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

"What are you doing?!" Katara cried out. "This is a mistake!"

Ozai held Azula's one bare wrist in his hand. She shot him a look, gesturing impatiently to the other cuffs.

" _One_ ," he said. "The rest will come off later."

Azula scowled but lowered her eyes in resignation. She fixed a threatening smile on Katara then, and a pit formed in her stomach. Ozai must have read Azula's expression because he yanked her wrist that was still in his grasp, drawing her eyes to him. "The waterbender is to remain unharmed. Do not make me regret this decision."

Her brows puckered with a question but Ozai turned and went to the door, opening it just enough to peer through. Outside, the clamor of shouts and heavy, hurried footsteps were growing closer, resounding in the barren corridor. Katara replaced the mask over her face and tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat.

"Now, on my signal," he whispered over his shoulder, "run straight for the stairwell and use whatever force necessary to make it out of the building." He held a hand up, waiting for an opening, and then quickly gestured to them to follow. The three of them dashed down the corridor toward the stairwell door. They were almost there when a shout rang out behind them.

"Over here! They have Azula and she is  _unrestrained_! Repeat, Azula is–!"

A bolt of lightning shot out, blinding in the stark white halls, and the guard's shouts ended in a gargle. The woman's body seized and spasmed under the powerful current of electricity and then went limp. A swarm of guards rounded the corner behind her and Katara gathered every shred of strength she had and sent four of the sentry to the ground simultaneously, then four more, Azula firing burst after burst of flames. Ozai and Katara darted into the stairwell and Azula shot off one last bolt of lightning. There were screams and zaps of light in the corridor as Azula dashed in the door behind them and the three of them raced down the stairwell, two and three steps at a time.

Katara's arms were burning, heavy at her sides, her chi exhausted. If they were cut off at the exit, she wasn't sure how many more she could handle. At the first floor, Ozai threw open the door and came to a screeching halt. At least eight more guards were there waiting for them. Her heart sank.

The guard in front formed a ball of fire in his hand, ready to strike. "This is your final chance to surrender. Otherwise we will be forced to take violent action."

Ozai drew his sword with a  _shink_  and Azula let out a maniacal laugh. The guards' fear was palpable but they stood their ground. The first sentry's brows settled low as he drew back his arm for the attack. Katara curled her arm and instantly he went rigid. Ozai kicked him down hard, sending him barreling into two other guards, and shoved his sword into the gut of another. Azula arced out a wide searing fan of flames as deafening screams resounded at the base of the corridor. The scent of burning hair sizzled in the air as the guards howled and recoiled, and Ozai, Katara, and Azula shoved past them. At the exit, Azula turned and summoned an enormous bolt of lightning that ricocheted off the walls and ended with screams of agony. Katara forced the bile down that rose into her throat as the three of them raced through the exit and down the walkway, escaping into the dark cover of the woods.

Behind them, shouts were beginning to swell as guards and personnel poured from the asylum, both in pursuit and to escape the flames that were catching from the lightning. Katara could hear frantic orders being barked to chase them down and her chest tightened as they ran further into the woods. The three of them pushed themselves past the point of exhaustion, zigzagging and crisscrossing to make tracking them more difficult. Katara's chest burned and her legs ached, and she thought she might collapse when Ozai finally slowed and they all came to a stop.

Katara slumped over, her hands on her thighs, as she gasped for breath. She tore her mask off her face and threw it to the ground, the cool air a shock against her hot, sweaty skin. Azula staggered and leaned against a nearby tree, a hand on her chest. Ozai stood, his chest rising and falling rapidly, staring intently into the darkness. Finally, when no sound of pursuit came, his shoulders relaxed a degree.

Katara felt weak, and not entirely from the night's exertion. Images of lightning bolts and flames licking up the asylum, all the innocent people and patients still trapped in the building… Her stomach churned sluggishly and she squeezed her eyes shut against the nausea.

"All those people…" she croaked out, still bent toward the ground. "So many innocent people who might not make it out."

Azula snorted and stalked toward her and Katara stood up then, challengingly. " _You_  should have been one of them!" she half screamed, half hissed, trying to keep her voice low. "Why don't we correct that now?"

"Azula," Ozai cautioned.

"This was  _never_  supposed to happen!" Katara barked at Ozai, ignoring Azula's threats, tears rimming her eyes out of anger and guilt. "You agreed that we wouldn't kill anyone!"

Azula glared wide-eyed at Katara, her nostrils flaring, and then leveled the same glare on Ozai, blinking long and hard. " _What_ … are you doing… with  _her_?" she growled low, dangerously.

Ozai stepped toward her and Azula shrunk back slightly as he came before her. "The waterbender and I have an arrangement. I helped her if she agreed to help me. You may wish to thank her, in fact, as none of this would have been possible without her."

Azula seethed, her eyes darting briefly to Katara. "And your escape from prison?"

Ozai nodded toward Katara and Azula exhaled sharply through her nose, casting her glare to the ground before looking at Ozai again.

"Well, it appears to me like your little arrangement has reached its end now. So, if you've no further need for the water wench, I'd be happy to take her off your hands." She shot a wicked smile at Katara and Katara glowered back.

"I'm afraid that's not in the cards today," Ozai said coolly.

Azula's hands clenched to fists and she started to retort when Ozai cut her off.

"Do not think your freedom doesn't come with a price, dear daughter. I have a job for you."


	8. Cry for the Moon

Zuko awoke to a loud, incessant banging at his bedroom door. One look out the crack between the drapes over his window told him it was well into the middle of the night. He sat up in bed, rubbing his temples and realized a muffled, panic-stricken voice was shouting on the other side. A weight settled in his stomach and he leapt out of bed, throwing on his robe as he rushed to the door, nearly tripping over the robe's untied sash. He threw open the door and was met with the head of his palace guard.

The man's face was creased with alarm and Zuko didn't even have time to ask before the man started spewing the words. "Apologies, my Lord but the city's in terrible danger. Ozai has been sprung from jail–"

"What?!" The guard's words were like a physical blow, the air sucked from his lungs.

"–And with his accomplice he invaded the asylum and successfully freed Azula. The three of them are still on the loose, but several teams are on their trail now."

Zuko felt all color drain from his face. "Oh my gods…" he breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head snapped back up to face the guard. "How could this have happened?" he roared. "The prison tower has been reinforced with additional guards –"

"There was no sign of a break-in, sire. It's been discovered that the tunnel system was utilized in his escape. The door was found slightly ajar."

"And the asylum?" he bellowed, equal measure of fear and anger boiling up hot from inside him. "How were  _two…_   _people…_  able to make it past that many guards, into my sister's cell, and back out the door like a few patrons just stopping in for tea?!"

"There was some kind of sorcery, my Lord. No one caught sight of the perpetrator's face, he wore a mask, but the guards all say he could bend their will and bodies with just the flick of his hands. He'd send four guards flying back at a time."

Zuko's eyes widened. It sounded like the same culprit who broke into the prison tower before. The only explanation to his knowledge that could explain that kind of power was bloodbending.  _Four guards at a time…_

There was only one person he knew of who could wield that level of power. His stomach churned and he tried to smother the way his thoughts spiraled to conclusions. Perhaps there was someone else, a rebel maybe…

"What would you have us do, Lord Zuko?" The guard snapped him back to attention and Zuko stiffened, his brows drawing low. The most important thing right now was to chase down his father and sister. And hopefully this other person. Stop them before they could ignite the end of the world again. The rest could wait.

"Launch a fleet of airships," he said decisively. "Scour the land. Leave them no place to hide."

* * *

 The remaining cuffs fell off Azula's wrists and ankles with a dulled clang against the soft earth. A sound somewhere between a purr and a snarl hummed in her throat as she turned her wrists over, examining them. She opened her palms flat, controlled plumes of blue flame licking up from her hands, illuminating her face and casting long shadows through the woods.

"Are my orders understood?" Ozai said, drawing her cold, glimmering eyes up to his. Her hands closed to fists, plunging the woods back into darkness, as her mouth turned down in a hard frown.

"What? Worried about sending your poor, damaged daughter out to do your bidding? Afraid I'll mess it up?"

"Assuring your newfound freedom does not make you careless," he said coldly, and then softened a measure. "Now understand this, Azula, and do not forget it: damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive. I've chosen you for precisely this reason. It is not your weakness, but your strength."

Her chin lifted then, her shoulders pulled back as she stood taller to face him. "Then I won't let you down, father. I promise." She turned and caught Katara's eye with a threatening sneer before walking away without so much as a backward glance.

Katara watched Azula fade into the darkness and something in the air pulsed a warning. The darkness seemed to close in around her, filling her, strangling her. It settled like lead in her depths, cold and heavy. What had she done?

Around her, the woods sang with crickets and peepers. She wrapped her arms around herself, the silence drawing out uncomfortably between them. She wanted to say something, anything, to break it but it was Ozai who spoke first.

"The asylum has practiced measures in place to handle emergencies," he said quietly, looking into the blackness where Azula had disappeared. "The personnel are highly trained. They will douse the flames, evacuate the building. Few will perish."

Katara blinked and cast him a sidelong glance. Was he telling her this simply to ease her conscience? It seemed so odd that he would care to mollify her at all. He could have just let her believe they had all burned to ash.

The thought bled into another and she remembered then how he had seemed to consider her, back in Azula's cell, when she'd pleaded for him to leave Azula's cuffs locked. He had hesitated then, regarding her for a moment, and had only just unlocked one. Katara let out a breath and felt a degree of tension ease from her chest.

"So…" She turned to him finally, clearing her throat softly. "I've done what you wanted, now we go our separate ways."

"In such a hurry to part?" he tisked. "I might start to think you don't care for my company."

Katara snorted and turned away with a frown. Another twinge of guilt and dread dug through her like a beetle through rotten wood at her part in all this. Unsure what else to do, she began to walk, hoping she was heading toward the path that would take her back to the city. Before anyone noticed she was gone. She tried not to think about what havoc Azula might wreak, the fact that Ozai would be out on the prowl like a hungry mooselion. She was forming a plan to anonymously tip the guards to their general direction upon her return, to salvage whatever was left of her conscience, when Ozai took up pace evenly beside her.

"Didn't your mother ever warn you to stay away from men like me?" he asked coolly.

Katara scowled. "Well, I'm sure she would have if the Fire Nation hadn't raided my village and killed her when I was a little girl." A twig snapped under her foot as she walked. She didn't look at him, but her scathing tone left no room for question as to her accusation.

"I see," he said, his voice flat and indifferent. "Perhaps that explains it then."

She huffed sharply, gritting her teeth. "Explains  _what_  exactly?"

In the corner of her vision she saw him looking at her. "Your lack of caution in seeking out the Fire Nation's top-security prisoner."

A thread of unease pulled tight inside her. Katara looked at him then, slowing to a stop and Ozai stopped a pace after her, leveling a cool expression. She forced herself to stand up taller, meeting his eyes with a flinty scowl. "It was a means to an end, and our business is over now. Anyway, I can take care of myself."

"I've no doubt of that." His voice was smooth, silvery. Laced with something that sent a dart of fear through her. "It just strikes me as odd that such a pretty girl like you would take to gallivanting with one who most would consider a dangerous man." There was a glimmer of something in his eyes and Katara was suddenly very aware of how secluded they were in the woods. How dark and quiet it was. How very much alone she was with this man.

A chill rushed over her, prickling the hair on her skin. Katara flashed him what she hoped was an undaunted look as she scrambled to remember the way back to the path. "Is that supposed to be some kind of creepy pickup line?" she scoffed, forcing her tone to stay light. "If so, it really needs work."

"Duly noted, my dear," he bantered without missing a beat. "But I'm sure you'll be saddened to know that is not in my plan tonight." His voice was cool, with just the right mix of sarcasm and disdain to convey the underhanded insult.

Her brows drew lower and her stomach pinched at the way his gaze was leveled so firmly on her. Just the hint of a sneer on his lips. Katara's fingertips tingled and the evening dew on the grass lifted into the air ever so slightly. She realized suddenly that she had not felt afraid of him before now, all common sense having been eaten away by emotion. What a horrible misstep that had been.

Katara forced herself to act calm as she began walking again, her eyes frantically scanning the woods now for a way out. "Then what is your plan?"

Ozai came into step beside her so casually that his words hit her like a kick to the gut. "Take you hostage."

Katara stopped mid-stride, her muscles tensed like taut wires, as she snapped around to face him. The brief, intense moment of realization and regret fanned out before her in slow motion and burned a pit in her stomach. She felt her vulnerability like a hole blown through armor, the echo of his words hovering in the air between them, and she cursed herself for her unrivaled stupidity. Here, alone in the middle of the woods, with this man, was a very bad place to be.

The world narrowed to her and him. The entire moment couldn't have spanned more than a few seconds. Ozai's fingers twitched at his side, and Katara remembered the blade he had concealed beneath his cloak. The corner of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. The barest quirk of his lips, his searing eyes locked on hers. Seconds, but it unraveled at a snail's pace. In the breath of an instant, his hand darted inside his cloak, the shrill ring of metal against sheath, steel winking against patchy moonlight and Katara was thrusting her arms forward, his movement shuddering to a grinding halt. Her body shook, her fingers curled, contorted against his unbelievable strength. Ozai's eyes went wide and wild with fury, his lips curling over his teeth. She grated out a groan, a muscle twitching in her jaw, as she struggled to hold him.

"You lied to me!" she roared. "You've planned this from the beginning. You let me believe you'd help me in return for your freedom and that would be it. I trusted you!"

"That was your first mistake," he growled. His lips turned up in a cold smile that chilled her to her core. "Don't blame me for your rather embarrassing lapse in judgment. And I didn't lie to you. Not entirely. There's something I need to do and you're going to help me do it. Then you'll be free as a bird, you have my word."

"You expect me to fall for that a second time? I won't be a part of whatever it is you're planning!" she spat.

"Unfortunately, you don't have a choice I'm afraid." A low, guttural laugh shuddered through the woods and made her flinch. "Love-scorned women are all so predictable. Passion made you careless. You would have agreed to anything I'd asked. And as it turns out, you did. And for that, I thank you," he said with a slight bow of his head. The corners of his eyes creased with a hard smirk.

Katara's knit brow quavered as wave after wave of emotion crashed against her like a surging tide. It clouded her head and she felt dizzy with the fury, the defeat. It was only after a moment that it dawned on her…

Ozai had moved his head. Her control was slipping. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold him, and from the way his smile widened across his face, she could tell he knew it too. Her strength was sapped from the night's ordeal. Her pulse hammered through her clenched jaw. What she wouldn't give for a full moon tonight in place of the fragile sliver that frowned at her now from the black sky above.

"You won't beat me, waterbender. Not now, not tonight. Surrender and I will be merciful."

Sweat beaded on her brow despite the chill she felt inside. Her entire body was quivering now from the exertion and she could feel the weakness wringing her dry like tendrils of strangling vines. But she refused to let him win. Even if it meant her end. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

Katara ground her teeth and summoned the last shreds of her strength, bending her wrist, and groped around inside his essence until she could feel the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She challenged his gaze with an icy, biting glare and squeezed, the powerful fibers of the muscle like clay in her grasp. She felt a sick satisfaction in the way his eyes widened, the way his chest expanded with the surprised gasp of a breath. She would show him what she was capable of.

But then he grinned harder despite it, and it was that moment, the brief second of alarm and uncertainty, the tiny fracture in her control, that gave him the opportunity he needed.

With a roar, he broke free of her hold and Katara howled at the pain that lanced from her fingertips through her body as the connection was severed. Ozai swung his sword toward her and Katara leapt back and there was the glint of moonlight on steel as the blade nearly nicked her face. Her arms burned as they shot out to her sides, water bursting from the ground and turning to spikes of ice in an instant as they went flying through the air toward him. Ozai dodged but one of the shards nicked his cheek and another sunk into his flank with a dull  _thunk_.

Ozai gave a strangled grunt of pain and his face contorted in rage. He lunged at her so fast she barely had time to dart back. Water sprung up at her fingertips but died to the ground as Ozai swerved and swiftly brought the hilt of his blade down hard between her neck and shoulder. Katara's eyes went wide at the searing pain and before she could blink he stabbed his fingers into the middle of her back and then beneath her ribcage.

_Pressure points…_

Like the flame of a candle snuffed out, her chi went suddenly dark. Katara's mouth hung open as her body fell limp to the ground. She couldn't bend, she couldn't move, and she realized in horror that she was paralyzed. It was the kind of attack Ty Lee had used on her before. It had been scary then, but now she was at the mercy of a very, very dangerous man. Now, she was terrified.

Ozai wiped the blood dripping from the slit at his cheek and picked up his sword. Katara could only lie on the dewy ground as her eyes followed his blade, her body limp and helpless, as he pressed it against her neck. "Foolish little waterbender. If you had only surrendered willingly." The steel bit harder into her neck. "Now, I could slit your throat right here…" Katara squeezed her eyes shut at the sharp sting, a trickle of warmth oozing down her neck, and a tear escaped over the bridge of her nose. But then finally the pressure was gone and she exhaled a shaky breath. Her eyes flew open to see Ozai sheathing his sword as he towered over her. "And mark my words, under any other circumstances I would. But fortunately for you, I need you, for the time being. Count yourself lucky for that."

He bent down next to her and retrieved a length of coiled rope from inside his tattered cloak. Rolling her onto her stomach, he took both of her wrists and bound them together behind her back, securing the rope tightly. Then he stood for a moment and studied her lifeless form. "I suppose I could gag you, but I'd rather not risk you drawing attention with any sort of commotion. So…" He picked up his sword again and her heart started racing. "My apologies."

In one swift motion he raised the weapon and brought the hilt hurling down at her head. There was a sharp pain…

And then everything went dark.


	9. Kaleidoscope

"Daffodils… daffodils everywhere."

"How are you making that sound scary?"

Toph and Sokka strolled along the brick pathway that snaked through the palace gardens. Zuko had made the addition after his coronation. Sometimes, when she woke too early and couldn't find sleep again, Toph would come to the gardens and sit, listen to the trickle of the fountains, smell the rich, earthy air.

She brushed one of the yellow blossoms with her foot as she walked. "Seriously though, it's like all these flowers just popped up overnight. Don't you find that…  _odd_?" She turned toward Sokka with an exaggerated lift of her brow.

"They're plotting something." Sokka stroked his chin with narrowed eyes and Toph gave a small laugh, smiling inwardly.

One early morning, several months before, Sokka had risen early by chance, and had found her there alone. They had sat on her stone bench for a while, the one nearest the fountain, and then walked the winding paths – talking, bantering, sometimes saying nothing at all – until the sun had finally breached the horizon.

Now, the first streaks of dawn stained the sky, painting the sleepy morning dew shades of pink and purple, a kaleidoscope of color in the haze. The palace would be waking soon, her blessed morning silence disrupted until the next time. And each time, she found herself anticipating his presence, hoping to see him. It had been infrequent at first, Sokka rarely being one to struggle with sleep. But the past month or two there had been an uptick – though she didn't dare let herself dream about why – and she often found him waiting at her bench.

This morning, he hadn't been there and Toph had felt her spirits sink. She had scolded herself for being dumb and pathetic, knowing full well he was engaged to Suki. Toph knew  _she_  couldn't be the reason he'd been coming more often. Most likely he just wasn't sleeping well since Suki had been away so much these last few months, something about obligations at home. Toph had dropped down on the cold stone bench, slumping forward onto her knees, feeling the clefts and divots in the brick path beneath her feet. Not long after, a hand had touched her shoulder and she'd looked up to see find standing there. She was sure she had smiled too wide, looked a measure too happy, but if she had, he hadn't seemed to notice.

Toph and Sokka slowed and came to a stop before another fountain, the mild summer breeze brushing the hair around her neck. She stole a glance at him and found him staring into the cascades of water. He looked pensive, preoccupied with something, a solemn crease between his brows. It was an odd look for him, out of place. She looked away and cleared her throat, searching for the right thing to say, when the pounding of footsteps raced through the courtyard out of view, coming closer fast. They spun around to see Zuko burst around the corner, trailed closely by Aang, both of them out of breath.

Toph took a step back and Sokka blinked in shock and alarm. Before either of them had time to ask, an avalanche of words was rushing from Zuko's mouth. Toph didn't follow it all but she caught enough to piece it together.

_Ozai. Azula. Break out. Escaped._

Toph's heart nearly dropped into her stomach. Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all.

And the day had started so well.

* * *

Katara woke to the howl of the wind. The world seemed to sway, the ground beneath her rocking as her consciousness bobbed at the surface of awareness. Her bleary eyes opened heavily from where she lied, her face pressed against a dank wood floor. Katara blinked several times, her swimming vision finally coming back into focus. The world rocked again and there was a deep, guttural creaking from somewhere, and it dawned on her then. She was on a boat.

A burning ache throbbed through her shoulders, arms, and upper back. She groaned and tried to sit up but something chafed around the skin of her wrists and she remembered the bonds of rope clasping them behind her. Remembered lying helpless while Ozai had bound her, remembered his hilt colliding with her head, the sickening sound of it before she'd blacked out. A chill traveled up her spine. Where was Ozai now?

She groaned again and finally succeeded in sitting up, wincing at the way her pulse pounded through the wound in her head as she rested back against the cool wood-planked wall. Her entire body prickled with invisible needles, like a limb after falling asleep. Only this was decidedly more painful and spanned her entire body. At least the attack was wearing off. Her chi was returning.

Katara looked around the room – her prison – and it was then that she noticed two large men standing guard inside the entrance, the door having long been removed judging from the thick coating of rust on the naked hinges. Both men looked to be edging toward the last stretches of middle-age but they were brawny and plenty thick with muscle. Her movement must have caught their attention because both of them had the tight posture of sudden alertness, watching her with hard, surly expressions. Katara glowered back.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs just out of sight and a lump swelled in her throat. There was only one person it could be. And a moment later, he appeared in the doorway. The men moved aside as Ozai strode into the room, his footsteps thudding on the grimy wood floor as he came to tower over her. He looked so much larger, powerful, more intimidating from where she sat now. In his hands were a plate of stale bread and a goblet of what she assumed to be water.

"Welcome back. I trust you slept well." His voice was dark and smooth. A ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

"Where are we going?" she bit out. "Why have you trapped me in here? What do you want with me?"

Ozai studied her a moment with a look of smug disdain. "In the Fire Nation, it's considered disrespectful to pass over pleasantries in impatience to get to the point. I would have thought your time spent there as my son's call girl would have refined you." The jab found its mark and Katara's hands clenched to fists at the insult, her fingernails biting half-moons into the palms of her hands. "But I suppose it's not entirely your fault, seeing as they don't teach proper etiquette in the Water Tribes."

She jerked her wrists against the rope, ignoring the way it burned against her raw skin, and snarled up at him. But she refused to let him get more of a rise out of her, to give him the pleasure of a response. Instead, she kept her mouth closed, defiant.

"Besides," he continued, seemingly indifferent to her silence, "why so eager for all the answers now when the thrill of surprise can be much more exciting?" One side of his mouth turned up in a cool sneer. Ozai bent down then until he was eye to eye with her, still holding the goblet and plate of bread. "You must be thirsty." He held the goblet out toward her lips, the tantalizing, tempting water sloshing gently against the sides, and Katara realized with a sudden clawing need indeed how thirsty she was. But as he held it there, inches from her mouth, her face flushed red with rage and humiliation as she realized he had no intention of unbinding her to give her the dignity of feeding herself. She flashed him an icy glare and turned her head away. Ozai gave a low laugh.

"You take me for a fool if you think I'd free your arms or leave this water before you unattended." His eyes creased faintly with a trace of what looked like vague amusement. "Therefore, I advise you to drink. Or you will wait until I decide to visit you again."

Something in her faltered and she cast him a cursory glance. She was thirsty. Her stomach felt empty. But not enough to give him the satisfaction of degrading herself. She turned away again. A heaviness seemed to lift from the room and she turned to see Ozai rise and walk back through the doorway, pausing to address his men.

"This girl is to have no food and no water except by my order. Understood?"

The men nodded and Ozai disappeared around the corner, his footsteps plunking up the stairs to the deck. The silence in the room in his wake felt oppressive, a heavy physical thing. Katara leveled her gaze on the men at the door then, long and cold, until one of them shifted on his feet.

"You must know where we're going," she said to them. Their faces were stony unreadable masks, their eyes fixed somewhere on the wall past her. She continued anyway. "If you tell me, maybe I'll spare you when I finally break free from here." They didn't look at her, didn't rise to the bait. They probably knew as well as she did that there was little chance of her escaping against Ozai's thorough measures, against his strength and speed. Three of them against one of her – not the best odds given her state at the moment. Katara settled back against the wall with a cold scowl. It didn't mean she wouldn't try if the opportunity presented itself.

She sighed and cast her gaze out the small round window at the top of the adjacent wall. The sky outside was streaked with color, but she didn't know which direction they were headed and couldn't tell if the sun was rising or setting. She tried to press back the fear, the pangs of dread, the mounting sense of loss and ruin that were bubbling up to the surface of her mind. Had her friends noticed she was missing yet? Had they connected her with those unspeakable things stabbing at her heart? She knew if they hadn't, it was likely only a matter of time, but she had to hold on to the hope that there would be enough room for doubt to free her from blame. That her friends, if she still had any, would come searching for her anyway and wouldn't stop until they found her.

Hours passed and Katara didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep when her body lurched slightly, her head lolling forward, waking her. She felt the pull of sudden slowing and realized the boat must be preparing to stop. She glanced at the two men, who remained still and inscrutable as ever. She rolled her eyes away and turned her attention to the window. Her arms were bound, and it wasn't like she could go anywhere. Surely they wouldn't mind if she had a look…

Gathering up her energy, Katara hauled herself up to standing, staggering as she recovered her balance without the use of her arms. In the corner of her eye she saw both men flinch, but if they disapproved of her moving about the room they didn't say anything. She tottered over to the window and lifted herself onto her tiptoes, her eyes just barely reaching high enough to glimpse a tiny fraction of the world outside. She could see just the tip of a port village coming into view on the horizon. She wasn't sure but from what she could see of the architecture she guessed maybe Earth Kingdom.

The boat pulled into the dock and swayed to a stop. Outside, the busy merchant pier was brimming with life, the chatter and hollering of traders, the thud of crates and footsteps, the pungent smell of fish. Katara almost didn't hear Ozai descend the stairs, so when he appeared in the doorway from her peripheral vision she nearly flinched. He addressed his men by name this time – Zhang, the taller, with the receding hairline, and Yao, stockier with bushy eyebrows – but kept his watchful eyes trained on her from where she was standing now below the window.

"You have the list of provisions we need. Acquire them but be quick and do not draw attention." Zhang and Yao nodded and receded from the room and up the stairs, their heavy footsteps thumping on the deck above and then ceasing as they stepped off the boat.

The lively muffled sounds of the pier droned on as Ozai stared at her, his expression stern and unreadable. His amber eyes skewered her like a pin through a moth's body. Katara swallowed. She fought the urge to shift under the weight of it and forced herself to hold his gaze.

"Regaining your strength, I see," he said at length.

Katara shot him a dark look. "No thanks to you," she growled lowly.

Ozai stepped through the doorway then and into her cabin. Katara felt something in her shrink back slightly, but she held her ground, tipping her chin up. Ozai stopped several strides before her and a tiny exhale passed her lips in relief of the distance he was keeping for now.

Just the corner of his mouth turned up as he studied her. "Have you considered that perhaps I've done you a favor?"

"A favor?" Katara nearly choked on a laugh or a scream, or both. "I didn't  _ask_  to be abducted."

"A favor in saving you from what would have been a tragic and, frankly, humiliating end for you and your little romp with Zuko." His voice was so cool and dark, like the underside of a stone worn smooth.

"It wasn't a little romp. What we had–  _have_ ," she corrected, "isn't some idle fleeting attraction, one and done. There was a magnetism that ran deep, that tethered us from the moment we met. But you couldn't possibly know what it's like, could you? Something real like that. Pure. Untained by manipulation. Any kind of love you might have had you twisted into some sick, cruel perversion of itself."

Ozai's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed. He took an intimidating stride toward her. "I  _know_  because I've been around. I've seen this story unfold before. It always ends the same."

Her mouth twisted downward and she tore her eyes away. He was wrong. Their love was deep, real, true. Complicated, sure, but no relationship was without its trials.

The memory of those rumors she had helped perpetuate flashed to the surface of her mind. The things she had written down on paper had turned her stomach and the thought of them again brought a fresh wave of nausea. Her eyes flicked back to him, his towering form, his hands almost forming fists as he frowned at her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know, but she had to ask.

"Was it true, those things you told me about Zuko?"

He cocked his head just so, blinking long. "Does it really matter now?" Disdain hid just beneath the surface of tone, his brows drawing up faintly as though he found her so pitiful it was actually fascinating.

Katara set her jaw and shot him an icy glare. "It does to me. I need to know."

Ozai simpered and his eyes lingered on her a measure too long. From overhead, two sets of footsteps sounded against the wood floor. "I'm afraid our little heart to heart must come to an end for now. Perhaps another time." He flashed her a smug look as his men entered the cabin.

"All the supplies have been procured, my lord," Yao said with a slight bow of his head.

"Very good. I'll have the captain set our course again." Ozai turned and walked back through the doorway but his leering eyes found hers for a just the breath of a moment before he vanished out of view.

* * *

"This is bad."

Sokka stood next to Toph, Aang, and Zuko, gaping at the mutilated asylum. Black charcoal tainted parts of the structure where fire had eaten away at it. Some of the walls were darkened by smoke damage. A part of the roof had caved in. Police and guards swarmed around the scene like flies over a rotting carcass, architects working to remove the damage and repair the building as quickly as possible. The patients who had survived – and thankfully most of them had – had been temporarily placed in vacant prison cells. Not an ideal situation, and it also meant that the prisons were nearly at capacity, but it was the best solution at the moment.

None of them spoke for a long time, their eyes trained on the impossible sight, the horrible reality unraveling before them like a spool of black thread.

Sokka's mouth worked, trying to formulate the words that swam in his head. In the end all he could manage again was, "This is bad."

"You said that already," Zuko said back.

"It seemed worth repeating."

"Any sign of them?" Aang asked, looking to Zuko.

Zuko only shook his head in disbelief. "Not a trace. They're still searching, but…" His voice trailed off, tight and gravelly.

"You said whoever let Ozai out used the tunnel system to escape," Aang said. "How could they have known about that?  _I_  didn't even know until you told me a few hours ago."

"I don't know. But I have a feeling this wasn't the first time the person had been in contact with my father. He must have told them."

"Any indication who might be behind all this?" Sokka asked. "The obvious answer is the rebels, I know, but… Do they have any waterbenders?" He lowered his voice. "No one could do the things they did without bloodbending. It has to be."

Zuko was silent for a long moment. "It's possible. Katara may have been the only waterbender from the Southern Tribe, but that doesn't mean some from the Northern Tribe haven't immigrated. But…" Zuko hesitated.

"But?" Toph prompted.

"I don't have any on record. I checked. If they're here, they'd have to be here illegally. And that's hard to do."

Sokka raised his brows, looking to Toph, Aang, back to Zuko. "So, what are you saying?"

Zuko was certain they knew what he was saying. The same thing they were all thinking but were afraid to ask.

"Has anyone seen Katara?"


	10. Ghosts and Golems

Ozai woke like a drowning person breaking the surface of water. His eyes shot open, his lungs raking in air, the dream still clinging to him like cobwebs. He sat up, kneading his temples, and tried to drag the edges of his mind back into order.

Night cloaked the ship in darkness and quiet. He rose and picked up a matchstick from on top of a crate in his cabin, cursing as he struck it once, and again, with no success, cursing that he was reduced to such antiquated means. Finally, it hissed to life and he lit the single lantern on a crate beside his cot, watching it flutter in a draft until it marked a dark stain on his vision and his eyes burned.

The dreams were becoming more frequent. Or rather,  _dream_ , he thought. There were often subtle differences – a change in landscape perhaps, at times barren and isolated, at others lush with flora and teeming with creatures beautiful and macabre. But there were marked similarities too. The sounds were usually the same – the burbling of water from somewhere out of sight, undulating like music in the air. The whisper of voices carried on the wind, an echo of words that all fell apart before they reached him. Voices, or maybe one voice, looping over and under itself until it was a chorus of ghostly whispers, the words just out of reach. Part of Ozai always wanted to lean in, to listen, to strain until he could make out what it was saying. But there was an unshakable sense of warning – maybe even fear – that he couldn't quite place. A sense that he was an intruder, eavesdropping on forbidden words, trespassing in a world of whispers where he didn't belong and wasn't welcome. So he let the garbled voices murmur on and did not lean his consciousness into it, did not give it shape.

Despite the differences, the dream always plunged him into the same world. Of this he was certain, though he couldn't say why. Like the kind of unequivocal, soul-deep knowing of an inherent instinct, he just knew.

But it was the why of it all, the reason for the dream's recurrence, always in the same world – questions unraveling like a thread fraying in a dozen places, loose ends leading to more questions but never answers – that tormented him. What did it mean?

What was happening to him?

Ozai pushed the thoughts away. It was foolish to let it vex him, it would lead him nowhere, as it always did. He opened his cabin door, rising up the creaking stairs that led up from the hull. The wind had picked up and as he stepped onto the deck he was met with a gust that filched the air from his lungs and whipped the hair around his face.

The night sky was studded with stars, but thick, low clouds were moving in now to smother them, a shroud of black velvet on diamonds. His brows pinched in a frown and he came up behind the captain who stood at the helm, a stern face gazing at the horizon. He did not turn but he must have heard him approach because he did not seem startled when Ozai's voice broke the quiet.

"How is our progress? When are we slated to reach the island?"

The captain, a man named Lu Da, was of squat height and stocky build, short and broad, at least two heads shorter than Ozai. But any sense of less-than ended there. On four fingers of each hand, he wore large rings of various makes and designs, each one different. Tattoos covered both his muscled arms and wound up to encase his thick neck. Even his face was etched with a dark, ornate pattern that curved over his forehead and brows, along his bulbous nose, and down around his mouth and chin and jawline. Two shiny silver scars carved into his cheekbone and over the bridge of his nose. His black hair was shaven all except for a stripe in the middle that ran the length of his scalp. And five small hoop earrings adorned the curves along both ears. Despite his below average stature, Lu Da made up for it with intimidating bearing.

"We are on schedule," the captain said in his thick, raspy voice, "and as long as this storm holds out, we should be there by early morning."

The captain had been a privateer in the Fire Nation Royal Navy under Ozai's reign. The man had become notorious for his unflinching willingness to do the more unsavory jobs others might shy away from, earning himself the nickname Dirty Hands. His morally flexible reputation had quickly made its way to Ozai and before long they had formed a sort of partnership. Lu Da would lead the less tasteful, albeit entirely necessary, errands behind the scenes of the public eye and Ozai would compensate him accordingly. It had been the perfect picture of a symbiotic relationship, until the coup lead by his traitorous son and that whelp of an avatar.

Ozai drew in a long breath and let it out with control, steadying himself and his mind as he scanned the vacant horizon. The time would come for retribution. But only if his plan succeeded. He had to remain focused.

Their trajectory, an island known as the Onyx Isle for its black, rocky coastline, was once a gathering place for sages from all four nations to convene and study differing bending techniques, to learn and grow from each other. The island had been home to a sanctuary of sorts called Goldenglow Keep that included a library full of all their texts and scrolls, a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. But over the centuries, technology and new modes of travel had shortened the distances between nations, communication easier and more commonplace, and the sages' work was eventually rendered obsolete. The library, along with the island it inhabited, was abandoned.

Legend said that within this sanctuary were kept four powerful relics – the Windstone, the Sunstone, the Earthstone, and the Moonstone. These artifacts served as keys that could open two different portals connecting the veil between the mortal and spirit worlds. If these portals were opened, it would essentially tear a hole in the veil. The pillars that held together the fabric of the cosmos and sustained the Avatar line would then be left exposed and vulnerable until they were closed again. Thus, why the relics were locked and secured safely away somewhere in the private sanctuary. When Goldenglow Keep had finally been sealed and locked down, the ancient scrolls and artifacts were shut away forever.

There was no telling what condition he might find the island in, how he would enter the sanctuary if it was indeed closed up as the legends claimed. But he would get in. One way or another. Of that he would make absolutely sure.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The first light of morning washed the world in a dreary monotone, like all the color had drained out. Grey mist curled off the brooding waves like sea serpents breaching for air. Ozai had returned to his cabin but sleep had eluded him there, or perhaps a part of himself had eluded sleep, and finally, when the black outside his window had begun to weaken to a barely discernible shade of grey, he had reemerged on the deck to scan the horizon for that tiny spit of land.

It was a long time looking into the curtain of bleak fog, squinting as his eyes struggled to find purchase, something to focus his vision on. And then – maybe it was a trick of the eye, a mind muddled from broken sleep, impatience impressing on his imagination – a tiny black speck amidst the grey, like a drop of ink on parchment. He squinted again, half expecting to blink it away, when the captain turned to him.

"There she is," Lu Da said, pointing with a stubby, ornamented finger. "The Onyx Isle."

A short time later, the ship scraped against the stony shore as it made berth. The coast of the island was such a profound, unfathomable black, its surface glossy with sea spray, that it looked as if oil had been spilled across its surface. In the middle of the slice of land loomed a tall stone cylindrical structure half concealed by fog.

Ozai gave quick instructions for Yao and Zhang to guard the waterbender as he secured his sheathed sword onto the belt at his waist and threw his satchel over his shoulder. Lu Da grabbed up his crossbow and arrows from his cabin and then the two of them disembarked, making their way toward the heart of the island, to Goldenglow Keep.

Dried grass and rocky earth crunched beneath their feet as the dark fortress took shape in pieces through the patchy fog. A lofty stone tower rising up between two lower wings on either side. The timeworn surface of the building told of its ancient past. Ropy vines were breaking through cracks in the stone blocks that made up its surface. The top of the tower was half-crumbled away, rubble scattered on the ground amidst dead clumps of grass. A pair of faded red, arching double doors were set into the center of the Keep at the base of the tower. An inscription had been carved into the stone above, now illegible, eroded by centuries of wind and rain.

"You think it's warded?" Lu Da asked.

Ozai studied the decaying structure. "Probably." The sages would not likely have abandoned the Keep without fortifying it against thieves and intruders. But in its condition, it certainly didn't appear foreboding and he wondered if it was possible for a ward cast hundreds of years ago to weaken with the tides of time. He supposed it was possible, but unlikely. They would need to be ready for anything.

Ozai started forward, ascending the pitted stone steps up to the arching entrance and looked around. He ran his hand lightly along the surface of the doors and examined the handles. He cocked his head and bent down to look closer. Signs of damage marred the place where the doors latched together. Chunks were missing from the solid, heavy wood, deep brown pocks hewn into the chipping once-red paint, the handles scarred and bent. It appeared someone had tried to break in before.

Ozai straightened and yanked on the doors. They shuddered and gave a low groan but held fast. He yanked again, harder, and this time there came the faint splintering of brittle metal inside. The hint of a smile perched on his lips. It seemed the someone who'd come before may have done most of the work for him.

He gave the handles one last forceful heave and then the lock gave way with a sharp crack, shards of wood and metal raining down. A burst of chalky dust and musty air hit him in the face and Ozai turned his head, coughing, as Lu Da appeared beside him.

"You know that feeling when you're breaking into an ancient fortress and it opens a  _little_  too easy and you get those warning twinges in the pit of your stomach?" Lu Da's eyes were fixed on the darkness through the doors. "Yeah, that."

Ozai peered into the shadowy depths of the tower's belly. Something stayed his steps and a pang of caution mirrored Lu Da's words. He didn't know what he had expected, but he had not expected it to be so easy. Ozai shoved the thoughts out of mind and told himself it was just age that had weakened the structure. He had made it this far and, anyway, he didn't have a choice. What he needed lied somewhere within these walls. Spirits be damned, he wasn't turning back now. So, with a breath, Ozai steeled himself and stepped inside.

It took a moment for the murky interior to take shape. Ozai was standing in what once must have been a grand, rounded cathedral inside the cylindrical tower. From the looks of it, it had likely been the central gathering place. Two impressive stone pillars rose from floor to ceiling, and in the center of the chamber stood a large wooden table beneath a circular hanging candelabra. Numerous chairs surrounded the table, some upright, others toppled on their sides.

Ozai advanced slowly and quietly into the great room, sallow light spilling in through the open doors behind him. Curled dead leaves and withered sheets of yellowed paper skittered across the floor in a draft. Overgrown tree branches and meandering vines encroached through the narrow paned windows, broke through holes in the crumbling stone. A tattered tapestry, faded by age, fluttered gently against the wall between unlit lantern sconces. To Ozai's left, a spiraling stone staircase wound up and out of view. To his right, another curled down toward a chamber below. Beside each staircase stood a grand arching door that must have led into the fortress's adjacent wings.

As he reached the center of the grand room, he saw that the table was still set in places with rusting metal dishware and cutlery, a tarnished decanter, embellished platters now corroded. Echoes of a time long past. At the far wall sat an empty hearth with an iron pot and a cooking spit. Ash scars marred the stone from past fires. Ozai imagined this place must have been a sight in its prime.

"Where do you suppose they kept the library?" Lu Da asked, his voice echoing in the dark.

Ozai glanced toward the staircases. From what he knew of the place, the underground chamber had been reserved for sparring and demonstrations, for studying bending techniques. That only left one option.

"It's on one of the upper levels," Ozai nodded and advanced toward the stairway.

Lu Da faltered behind him. "One of the…  _how many_  levels does this tower have? Ten?"

"Twelve," Ozai said flatly as he started up the spiral of crumbling steps.

He heard Lu Da grumble a curse as he fell into step behind him. The rooms on the first floor up were nearly empty, save for one with two standing candelabras wrapped in cobwebs and an old chest. The next two floors held several small bedchambers. The two men continued to climb up the soaring tower. Another three floors, more cobwebbed, dust-laden remains.

When they reached the tenth floor, the staircase dead-ended onto a landing before a door. Ozai frowned. He was sure he had counted twelve floors from outside. Lu Da met his gaze with one cocked brow. Ozai set his teeth and wrapped his hand around the large cold metal handle and pushed.

* * *

The headquarters of the Rebel Resistance was nestled in a cliffside hideout overlooking the ocean along the western coast of the Fire Nation. It was late morning but the haze cast the land in washed out tones of grey, the line where the sky met the sea smearing together.

The Rebel Sanctuary had not been easy to find. Azula had finally sniffed out the hidden tunnel leading to the wooden door set deep in the side of the cliff. In the dim light of the tunnel she barely registered the image of a phoenix painted on the wood. The espoused symbol of the resistance. Azula knocked. Waited. Knocked again. She tapped her foot on the ground, examining her nails. Finally, a small window in the top of the door slid open, revealing a cold set of brown eyes.

"Who are you? What are you doing h–?"

"The one they call Matsu the Cleaver. I'd like to see him, if you please."

There was a slight pause as his brows drew lower. "The Boss expecting you?"

"Hardly a soul on earth's expecting me," she scoffed. "Now let me in."

"Sure." She could hear the doubt in his mocking tone. "Right after you tell me the password."

"Ugh, what is this, some school children's secret clubhouse? I suppose you have a super-secret handshake too?" She rolled her eyes, cutting a hot glare his way. "Bunch of maggots. Do you  _really_  not know who I am?"

"I know you're testing my patience right now," the man said in a tight growl. "No one sees Cleaver without an appointment. And absolutely no one gets in if they don't know the password."

"Then try this one. Open the door or I'll kick it down and open your skull."

"That's cute," he laughed. "But before you try, how bout you tell me who you are so I know what name to have engraved on your headstone."

Azula smiled then. A sharp, cold, biting smile. She held out her hand, palm up, and watched the man's eyes go wide with the slack expression of shock as blue flame danced and curled above her open hand. She relished the moment as his shock melted into awe and reverence.

"You can call me your new Cleaver," she said.

"Princess Azula…" The eyes behind the window blinked rapidly. And a moment later several locks scraped and the door opened. Azula flashed a hard smirk and closed her fist, the flames dying to nothing at her whim, and stepped inside.

* * *

One of the first things Zuko had set out to do after becoming Fire Lord was to create an agency to help restore peace and balance after a century of war and devastation. His efforts, along with the help of his advisors and new international allies, resulted in the birth of the Concord Assembly.

The Assembly was comprised of six representatives from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation, and three representatives from each of the Water Tribes. Their central mission was to uphold peaceful international relations by working to resolve any conflicts that arose and maintaining the conditions that would allow harmony to hold and flourish, as well as delivering military reinforcement and humanitarian aid when needed.

The structure was situated on a large plot of land in the eastern pocket of Capital City. Now, as Zuko sat next to Aang inside the palanquin, the movements jostling them gently, the building was coming into view in the distance, partially obscured by the thick veil of haze blanketing the city. Something in him tightened as he studied it. He had hoped the Assembly would prove helpful when needed. He could never have imagined he would need it for this.

Zuko and Aang had started out the ride trying to make sense of what was happening. Zuko's father and sister on the loose. Katara's disappearance. The mounting evidence against her. Aang seemed unequivocally convinced of Katara's involvement, adamantly so. And Zuko certainly could not deny the way it looked. But a small, guilt-ridden part of him still wanted to extend her the benefit of the doubt until concrete evidence proved otherwise. After all, it was his fault that he had led her on, allowed her to believe there had still been hope for them. And a part of him still wished there could be, despite everything. Still longed for her embrace. The end was forced on him as much as it was on her. He had not woken up one day and accepted that it was over. As though he could simply shrug off his love for her like a robe at the end of the day. As though it could ever be that easy.

Eventually, when Zuko had stopped responding to Aang's rantings, the palanquin had dissolved into silence, studded only by the shuffle of servant footsteps outside and the murmurings of the city streets. Finally they arrived in front of the green double doors. An emissary of the Assembly was waiting and stepped toward them with a small smile.

"Fire Lord Zuko. Avatar Aang." She bowed gracefully. "Welcome. My name is Maho. Please, follow me."

They were escorted through the doors, down a hall, and then into a large auditorium with polished bamboo floors. One wall was lined with seats, filled with the waiting members of the Assembly, plaques with their names and representing nation on the long table in front of them. In the center of them, in a partitioned booth, sat the Grand Councilor, who was the overseer of the Assembly's peacekeeping and conflict resolution branch.

"Fire Lord. Avatar. We are honored by your presence. I do wish we could be met under better circumstances."

Zuko and Aang gave a slight bow, hand into fist. "Thank you, Councilor," Zuko said. "As do we."

"We were briefly updated by the Head of Police this morning about the ongoing investigation. The Assembly would, however, appreciate an accounting in your words of how you believe Ozai managed to escape the world's top security prison. How Azula escaped the asylum. Do you believe the rebels were behind it all?"

Zuko cleared his throat and slid a glance at Aang before returning his gaze to the Councilor. "We have not been able to confirm that, no."

The man frowned. "It almost sounds as though you are not convinced the rebels are indeed at fault here. Do you suspect another force at play?"

"I'm afraid it's too early to say yet. However, there is another very pressing matter for which we would request the Assembly's immediate aid. You all have been acquainted with Princess Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, one of my close advisors. She has gone missing in the wake of these prison escapes and we believe she may be in danger. We have reason to suspect that she may be with Ozai."

A modicum of shock flashed on the Councilor's face, there and gone, quickly replaced by his grave façade. He cocked his head and studied Zuko for a beat too long. "You say that she may be with Ozai. You did not say that you believe she has been abducted." He raised his brows. "Is Princess Katara a suspect in these crimes?"

Zuko swallowed. He resisted the urge to chew his lip – a very un-Fire-Lord-like gesture, Mai had reminded him more than once – and squared his shoulders, met the Councilor's gaze. "We cannot–"

"All we know is Katara was acting oddly in the days before the Prison Tower and Asylum break-ins," Aang cut in. "She was not herself."

"Does the police force know of your suspicions?"

Aang and Zuko shared a glance. "Only that she has not been seen since," Zuko admitted. "Avatar Aang and I would like to keep the rest quiet unless we receive more evidence in support, given the fragile state of affairs at present and the importance of her role in international diplomacy. Which is why we are asking the Assembly to launch a covert investigation into the matter."

The Councilor drew in a deep breath and sat back in his chair with a long exhale, thoughts churning behind his troubled eyes as he looked between Aang and Zuko. "Permission to speak freely, Fire Lord?"

"Yes, of course, Councilor."

He hesitated only a moment. "The Assembly is not ignorant of your relationship with Princess Katara. And it is not of our interest nor our intent to discuss the matter, as that should remain a private subject to His Majesty. However, one might say that your closeness to the Princess could obscure your better judgment and opinion of her. And I believe the implications of the deterioration of your relationship does warrant some investigation into the matter."

Beside him, Zuko saw Aang nod his head firmly. Zuko's chest felt tight. He pressed his lips into a line and gave the slightest dip of his head in concurrence. He did agree, of course, which was why they were here. But he hated to admit it. That Katara could really have brought about such destruction.

"If Katara is innocent," the Councilor continued, "it will come to light quickly. But either way, the Assembly is in agreement that we must act immediately. With Ozai and Azula's escape, we fear it is only a matter of time before the rebel conflict erupts into a full-blown civil war. This could spell destruction not only for the peaceful international relations Your Majesty has so earnestly strived to instate, but could threaten your own rule as well. The rebels would like nothing more than to depose you and reinstate one who aligns with your forefathers' ideals, perhaps Ozai himself, perhaps even, Agni forbid, Azula. Add to that the possibility, albeit a hopefully small one, of Katara's involvement, and we could be on the very brink catastrophe. We will immediately recruit forces from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes and will also dispatch the Assembly's emergency guard to help stamp out the rising tensions and reinforce the Capital. In the meantime, we will launch a private investigation into the disappearance of Princess Katara and the two fugitives."

Sensing the conclusion of their meeting, Zuko bowed again and Aang followed suit. "Thank you, Councilor. Assembly. Your aid is very much appreciated."

"It is our duty and our pleasure, Fire Lord," he bowed, and then again, facing Aang. "Avatar. We will be in touch with anything of consequence." The Councilor rose, followed by the rest of the Assembly as they all bowed in unison, like an undulating wave, and then Maho appeared again to escort Zuko and Aang from the building and back to the waiting palanquin.

Aang was climbing in when Zuko put a hand on the young Avatar's shoulder. He turned back, the unspoken question on his face.

"I think I'll walk," Zuko said simply.

Aang crinkled his brow. "You can't walk alone in the city right now. It's not safe."

"I'll be careful. I just need…" He trailed off, lowering his eyes.

Aang gave a quiet sigh, his shoulders softening a degree. "I'll walk with you."

Zuko dismissed the palanquin with a wave of his hand and the servants hesitated a moment, exchanging concerned glances before quietly obeying.

The two of them walked in silence. The first hints of the coming dusk dampened the hazy sky. Zuko wondered if Aang still wrestled at all with conflicting feelings for Katara the way he still did. Wondered if he still nursed a modicum of resentment toward Zuko for her choosing him over Aang, for Zuko choosing her love despite their friendship. If he could do it over again, he doubted he would do things differently, much as he wished he could have the chance. And that bothered him as much as anything.

Zuko rubbed his temples, trying to quiet his thoughts. Sleep. Sleep would help. If only sleep were so easily reached through a troubled mind.

* * *

It took a forceful push for the door to budge as it swung open slowly with a long, deep sighing groan, like a beast waking from an ancient sleep.

Lu Da released an audible exhale. "Would you look at that."

The chamber sat deathly still, their breath the only motion in the air, musty and stagnant. Ozai and Lu Da stepped quietly through the library. Dust drifted heavy through the pale grey light that leaked in through cracks in the walls and pooled on the floor at their feet, part of the tower's roof having crumbled away. The damaged vaulted ceiling loomed over a soaring cylindrical room, ascending the height of the final two floors, the pinnacle of the tower. Covering nearly ever inch of the rounded walls were shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. Narrow tracks of wall broke between the shelves to uphold now-darkened lantern sconces. Two tall rolling ladders were affixed to opposite walls – or rather, the one continuous curved wall – to give access to the loftier shelves.

Standing guard at even intervals were twelve giant stone statues, men and women, each in a different pose, some holding a book, others a scroll, and still others with arms poised as though in enlightened conversation. They wore the traditional garb of the four nations in a repeating pattern – earth, air, water, fire.

"Where do we even start in a place like this?" Lu Da asked. A sudden flutter of wings came from the darkness high above as the words carried throughout the yawning library. His voice was an intruder in the heavy, ancient quiet. Out of place, unwelcome.

"The sages would not have kept artifacts and scrolls of this caliber out on the shelves. There must be an alcove somewhere, a place they would have been locked away, safe. You start searching this half of the room, I'll take that half."

Ozai crossed to the other side of the library, watching the floor as he stepped for any oddly placed tiles or fissures, anything that might signal a trap. The floor was pitted and uneven, worn from the feet of many people over many years, but nothing out of the ordinary. Strange. All the relics, artifacts, hoards of ancient knowledge in this place that could prove devastating in the wrong hands and it just… sat here? Like a forgotten used wares store, waiting for someone to discover it? It didn't seem right.

Something buzzed under the current of his conscious – a feeling, a forewarning – and he took heed while guardedly swatting it away. The sooner he found what he was after, the sooner they could get out of this place.

He reached a wall of shelves packed as far and wide as he could see with tattered books, yellowed scrolls, dotted with bizarre knick-knacks. Between one shelf and the next, against a bare track of wall, sat an old round table covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Ozai ran his fingers along the ancient markings carved into the wood, leaving a trail of dark lines in his wake. The table was still littered with items – shriveled roots, hawk feathers, some sort of spindly branch, bowls of something now unrecognizable in rot, vials and flasks, some empty, others filled with moldy liquids and powders. Set into the table was a shallow, round divot beneath an angled glass tube leading into a glass bulb. An herbalist's table, or an alchemist's, perhaps.

Ozai started to move on but something on the table caught the thin, muted light and winked softly in the corner of his vision. He turned back, searching for the source, and finally found it at the back edge of the table. A small jade disk, polished to a sheen, carved with runes. Ozai picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It was oddly heavy for its size. Odder still was its gleaming surface, seemingly untouched by the thick coating of dust that had enveloped the rest of the library.

A corner of his mouth turned down as he studied the object, turning it over again, and he considered pocketing it but ultimately decided to return it to its place on the table. He had no plans of inviting unnecessary trouble, should the thing be enchanted. Not until he had what he came for.

He strode further, his eyes grazing over a statue of a woman in Water Tribe clothing as he went, scanning the walls, the shelves, the floor for any hint that might lead to something. He glanced toward the other side of the library, to where Lu Da was ambling in a similar fashion. The captain retrieved a worn book from a shelf, leafed through it, put it back, moved on.

Ozai made it to the farthest side of the library, opposite the entrance, and Lu Da was nearing the mark himself. And still, they had found nothing more than the dusty corpse of a once magnificent structure. Threads of doubt were spinning dark webs through his mind. What if it had only been a legend? A fairytale, a children's bedtime story? An embellishment at best? All of this would have been for nothing. All hope would be lost.

A muscle tensed in his jaw. No, he wouldn't settle for that. Legends, he knew, always contained a grain of truth. And if he had to sift and comb through and pick apart every inch of this place, he would find it.

His eyes scoured the remaining walls of shelves as he walked. Past the halfway point and on toward where Lu Da was edging up his side of the room. Another break of lanterned wall…

Something registered in his mind – some minute peculiarity, maybe just a trick of the light. Ozai stopped, blinked. He turned back and studied the narrow track of wall, the cobwebbed lantern sconce. Something seemed off about it, though he couldn't place why. He reached up to touch the cool sculpted metal and realized the sconce was slightly crooked, almost imperceptible. To one side where it hung secured against the stone wall, the corner outline of the sconce was ghosted into the wall, the stone there a shade darker than the rest.

Ozai tentatively wrapped his fingers around the base of the sconce and felt it shift just slightly under his grasp. He gave it a nudge and the sconce slanted further. Equal measures of hot and cold rushed through his abdomen. This could be it. The sconce angled as Ozai pressed it further, further until it was nearly horizontal. And then, the low, rumbling grind of massive stone on stone as the wall opened, slowly receding into a slot in the floor, revealing a shallow chamber and…

Another door.

The small taste of victory vanished. Ozai clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to sputter the profanities roiling through his mind. This door, a solid, heavy wooden one, was unlike any he'd ever seen. It was ornately carved from top to bottom, in an intricate pattern. In the center were four concentric rings, one inside the other. Each was engraved with the four elements in a seemingly random pattern. In the center of the rings was a shallow, circular opening.

He felt the air shift as Lu Da came up beside him. "Looks like a puzzle." He said. Then, with a sigh, "I hate puzzles."

Ozai brought a hand to the largest ring, running his fingers along the carvings. The ring turned slightly under his touch. He turned the second one, his eyes flicking between the different rings. An idea formed in his head. He moved the largest ring so that  _water_  appeared at the top. Then the second until  _earth_  aligned below it. Then the third,  _fire_ , and the fourth,  _air_. The cycle of the Avatar.

He waited.

Waited.

Nothing happened.

"That would make sense…" Lu Da started.

"…But it's too obvious," Ozai finished. Of course, the sages would not have made it so easy. He knew he was on to something though – there was a pattern these rings were supposed to follow – but there were so many combinations, it would take an eternity to figure it out.

Ozai exhaled a tight sigh and turned around, scanning the cavernous chamber. Was there a hint somewhere? Something he had passed over?

His vision caught on the statues circling the library. He followed them around the room, his eyes widening a degree, understanding washing over him.  _Earth, air, water, fire_. Repeating. A pattern. It was worth a try.

Ozai aligned the rings again.

Again, nothing happened.

He scanned the door, looking for another hint, something, anything. His eyes settled on the round nook in the center. Something unfurled in his mind and he remembered the odd jade disk he had found on the herbalist's table. The size was about the same. Probably a coincidence, but…

Without a word, he stalked back to the table and retrieved the gleaming disk, blowing past Lu Da on his return. The captain didn't question, just watched with an incredulous lift of his brow as Ozai inserted the circular stone into the opening.

It fit like a hand in a glove and suddenly the emblems started glowing and the rings started turning, and then, finally, the door slid open with a long scrape.

"Belch me a limerick," Lu Da said under his breath. "You actually did it."

"You doubted me?" Ozai said flatly as he stepped inside.

"Never," Lu Da returned with a curl of his lips.

Behind the door, Ozai was surprised to find only a small, shallow chamber, empty save for a chest against the back wall. It stood on four tall, spindly metal legs. Its long, rectangular body was studded with gemstones and boasted a glass top. Ozai peered inside. The sight made him simultaneously swell with victory and run cold with dismay.

Inside the chest, upon a plush purple overlay, sat what could only be the Earthstone and Windstone, radiating with a faint glow of green and white respectively, next to a rolled-up scroll. Where the Sunstone and Moonstone  _should_  have been, on the other side of the scroll, was empty space.

The Sunstone and Moonstone were missing.

The web of curses that had been knitting itself behind his consciousness now surged forth under his breath in an endless stream. He didn't go through all this trouble just to come away with  _half_  of what he needed to open the portals. What good was opening only one portal? What good were two stones to him? He needed all  _four_.

Lu Da rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a puff of air. "Well. It's a start. Let's just bag them and get out of here. Figure the rest out later. If I know you, which I dare say I do, you'll find a way to track down the other two."

Ozai grimaced and stared in dismay, as though the missing stones might materialize if he willed it strongly enough. His fists clenched and unclenched as he took in a deep breath, released it sharply. Perhaps it was another safety measure – the other two stones having been holed away someplace else when the sages left. That would render it almost impossible then for someone to get their hands on all four, to open both portals and endanger the Avatar line.

 _Almost._  Impossible for some, perhaps. Not for him. If it cost him his very soul, he would see this through.

Ozai tried the handle of the chest but found it locked.  _Naturally_. He no longer had the patience for this. In one swift motion, he drove his cloaked elbow down hard into the glass covering. It shattered, glinting shards raining down on the plush interior of the chest and scattering across the floor. Slivers of glass bit into his hands as he picked up the stones and the scroll and stuffed them into his bag.

From somewhere out in the library, a deep, grumbling, gravelly sound like stone grinding on stone echoed through the chamber and travelled through the floor, shuddering beneath their feet. Ozai stiffened and Lu Da shot him a look. The two men crept quickly back through the strange set of doors into the library, and froze. The air rushed from Ozai's lungs.

The twelve colossal statues were somehow  _alive_ , turning to face them, their eyes blazing a vivid, menacing red. And those red, red eyes were trained directly on them.

"Shit." Lu Da stumbled back a step. "Yep, definitely warded."

"I knew this was all far too easy." Ozai's eyes darted to the door on the other side of the library. If they could just make it there.

The stone beings took a giant synchronized step toward them. Something ominous churned behind those raging eyes just before a beam of scorching hot fire burst from one of the statue's sockets. Ozai and Lu Da dove apart as the blast exploded in a plume of flame where they had been standing a moment before.

Ozai rolled to standing, drawing his blade as the absurdity of the weapon sunk like a weight in his chest. Lu Da jerked the crossbow down from his shoulder and nocked an arrow in a single fluid motion. Ozai heard the captain give a solitary strained laugh.

"How much chance do you think my baby here stands against magical stone demon things?" He let the arrow fly. It ricocheted off a statue with barely a sound, just a faint  _thwick_  in the deep chamber. The creatures advanced with another massive, grinding stride.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

Sets of red eyes started churning dangerously and Ozai shot Lu Da a quick glance. "Make for the door, now!"

They bolted across the library between the giant encroaching statues, heavy stone feet striking the floor around them in a shuddering thunder. Another burst of fire erupted on their trail, narrowly missing them, and then a second and a third, flames licking at their heels and the hems of their cloaks.

They reached the door and Lu Da threw himself into it, wrenching the handle. It wouldn't budge. Ozai picked up a large rock and shoved beside him, crashed it against the handle. There was an odd burst of light as it hit and he was thrown back, white hot pain shooting up his arm. He doubled over, clasping his hand to his chest.

Warded. All of it. They were trapped.

Ozai scanned the room in a flurry. Stray sparks and licks of flame were catching now on shelves and books, tendrils of fire like greedy fingers reaching, devouring. His gaze flicked to the gap in the soaring ceiling –  _too high_  – and there were no windows, no alternate entries. No way out at all.

A curse cut through his thoughts as another four blasts came hurtling toward them at once. Ozai and Lu Da lunged out of the way, but the force was so powerful and the breadth of flame so large it caught on Ozai's pants, the edge of his cloak, the ends of his hair. He rolled to the ground, the sharp, acrid scent of singed hair, the blistering heat on his skin registering faintly amidst the surge of adrenaline as his eyes snagged on a large crack in a strip of lanterned wall.

In the breath of a second a desperate idea took shape in his mind and then he was sprinting toward it, his hands white-knuckle tight against the hilt of his blade. Another blast somewhere behind him and he didn't turn to see if Lu Da was trailing him. In one concurrent motion Ozai skidded to a stop and thrust his long, slender blade into the crack in the wall and angled it with force, putting all his weight behind it. The crack began to splinter and spread. With another heave, Ozai tore his blade back and kicked the fissured wall hard. Stone collapsed and crumbled away, shattering against the ground below and leaving a large hole in the wall.

He edged toward the opening and turned then to see the captain dashing toward him, a thin trickle of blood leaking above his brow. Ozai gripped the jagged sides of the remaining wall and looked down. Eleven floors would be a long fall. Most likely a fatal one. He doubted the vines gripping the stone walls were strong enough to hold them. Though there might be enough crags and crevices between the stones to fit hands and feet…

Thundering stone footsteps rumbled the floor beneath him. Given the two options, he'd take his chances. He signaled to Lu Da. "Let's go!"

Ozai sheathed his sword – it had proven useful after all – and crouched, quickly swinging his legs over the side, his feet finding purchase, and began to climb down. Lu Da was lowering himself over the edge when a blazing plume of flames erupted and caught him on the side of his face. The captain screamed and lost his footing. His hands and feet clawed at the tower as he skidded down, a thrashing hand finding Ozai's leg and wrenching him down alongside him. Ozai grunted and ground his teeth, digging his hands and feet into the stone as they found footholds again. His fingernails were cracked and bloody, his arms shaking. Below him, Lu Da's ragged breath was thick with pain. Ozai could feel the distant shudder of heavy footfalls from above against the stone tower. They had to hurry.

Half climbing, half sliding they scrambled their way down the tower's worn surface, a blast of fire whooshing dangerously over Ozai's head once, twice. At last they dropped onto the spongy earth amidst the rubble and took off running back toward the oily-black coast where the ship was waiting.

Their footsteps thundered across the wooden boards as the two men sprinted onto the ship. Ozai weighed the anchor and shot a glance at Lu Da. The side of the captain's tattooed face was an angry red, raw. The skin where the fire had hit was no longer decorated with ink, the flames having burned through flesh, and was now shiny as it began to ooze, blistering. A memory flashed, a scar so similar of his own doing once. He cut through the thought like a hand through smoke, dissolving it, and regained his focus in an instant. They would need to treat the wound before infection set in. He hoped Lu Da kept a medicine kit on his ship.

The captain's posture was slightly diminished from the pain but he seized the helm, giving it a hard turn, and soon the Onyx Isle was shrinking into the horizon behind them. As they set course, Ozai receded to his quarters. He made a mental note to check in on the waterbender shortly, but there was something he had to do first.

He dropped his bag down on his cot and opened it. The two stones glowed faintly from inside – one almost white, the other green – and he felt a strange pull, like hunger, to hold them in his hands. He ignored it and instead retrieved the piece of rolled up parchment. Eagerness burned behind his tawny eyes as Ozai cut the string binding it and unrolled the scroll in his hands. The paper was yellowed and brittle and he had to hold it carefully so it would not rip in places.

He raked his eyes over the words.

And his stomach turned to stone.


	11. Stillborn Hope

The ship groaned, rocking side to side, buffeted by the swelling waves. Katara sat against the wall and watched with wry amusement as her guards, Yao and Zhang, struggled to stay upright and keep from vomiting, tilting against the door frame, faces contorting with every lurch. Not accustomed to life at sea, apparently, she thought with a smirk.

A light rain had started a few hours earlier, just as Ozai had returned and they had set sail again. Now, as dusk drained to night, the rain had mounted into a sizable storm, complete with wind gusts and thunder. The rain hammered against the sides of the ship and now drops of water had begun slowly leaking into the cabin. It splattered onto the floor across the room.

_plink…_

_plink…_

_plink…_

The sight and sound of it turned her mouth to dust.

The thirst was becoming an aching, clawing thing, the need of it wringing and writhing up her throat, and her stomach gnawed with hunger. She thought of Ozai sitting before her, holding out the water and bread, the smug smile on his lips. There had been no offers of food or water since, as he had promised, and he had not returned to her again, not yet. He was biding his time. Her hands curled to fists behind her back, the movement chaffing the rope against her raw flesh. Famished and thirsty as she was, she preferred to think she would turn up her nose at it again just to defy him, to wipe that sneer off his face.

She swallowed as she stared at the beads of water on the floor forming a tiny puddle, her mouth working. Animalistic need surfaced and on instinct she stretched her unbound feet toward the water, as though that might somehow will the liquid across the cabin and into her mouth.

And then… Katara blinked, a small gasp catching in her throat. Had the water just moved? No. Probably just her imagination. Still, she couldn't help the flicker of hope that bubbled up inside her.

She slid a glance at the guards. They were nearly green with sickness, closing their eyes against the nausea and clutching the sides of the doorframe for dear life. She simpered and turned her attention back to the water. Katara focused her energy and gave a small jerk of her foot so as not to draw attention. The puddle wobbled and a globule rose up from the center, just slightly, until Katara released her control and it quietly sunk back into the converging beads of rainwater.

Her eyes went wide as she stared at the tiny shuddering pool for a long moment.

And then she smiled.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai sat on the edge of his cot, clenching the open scroll in his hands. He scanned the text again and again, but the garbled words and symbols meant nothing to him. He cursed himself for his stupidity. Of course it was written in an archaic language. Why had he expected otherwise? The sages would never have been so careless as to write it in the common tongue. But obvious or not, the thought hadn't occurred to him and now it would add another step to his journey and that meant more time for the Capital to sound the alert, a greater chance that every town the world over would be on the lookout and someone would spot him. No doubt Zuko would issue lofty rewards for any tips leading to Ozai's capture. People would be chomping at the bit, eyes peeled.

He cursed himself again and stood. Finally, he made his way up the stairs from the hull and opened the door to the deck. Ozai grimaced. Rain slanted in sheets and blew in through the door, soaking him before he'd even set foot outside. He wouldn't have bothered, except now they had a major dilemma on their hands. One that needed dealt with as soon as possible. The last thing he cared about right now was a little rain. So he pulled the hook of his cloak down farther and stepped out onto the deck, to where Lu Da was bent and squinting against the wind and the rain, the black stripe of his hair matted against his head. Rain streamed down his face and Ozai imagined it must be stinging where the drops pelted against the burn.

"There's a problem," Ozai shouted above the storm.

"And what's that?" Lu Da said, casting him a glance.

Ozai held the scroll in one hand and the side of his cloak in the other, shielding it from the driving rain. The captain scanned its contents and pinched his eyes shut with an exhale. "Agni's tits." Ozai cocked a brow and almost laughed despite the snag in his plan. The man had an interesting way with words. Lu Da shook his head. "I wish I could say I'm surprised. But considering the hexed out place we got that thing…"

"Change of plans," Ozai said, returning the scroll to the dry safety of his inner cloak. "We need a way to translate the scroll. It's useless to me as it is, and the entirety of this mission hinges on this  _damned_  sheet of parchment."

"Right. Okay. But where do we even start?"

"We need–" A clap of thunder drowned out his words and Ozai scowled as he began again. "We need to find someone versed in the language, someone who's studied it. Or, at the very least, a book that can help us."

"Hmm. A scholar from the College of the Ancients maybe, somewhere in northcentral Earth Kingdom. You know about it? The one where limp knobs with no social skills from all over the world convene to compete for the title of supreme nerd? You'd probably have your pick of brains to do the honors there."

Ozai had heard of it, but the extent of his knowledge ended there. It could be risky. By the time they reached it, his face would likely be plastered on the walls of every city. They could figure a way to deal with that later, but it was still a huge risk.

He considered the options. With no other leads, they would be wasting time, going in circles until they found something, if they were lucky. Lu Da seemed to think the college was worth the chance. Ozai had never trusted anyone, not really, but his relationship with the Captain was the closest thing to the way he imagined it might be like. To trust someone.

He nodded. "All right. Set course for–"

The sounds of muffled shouting pierced through the storm from below deck. Ozai's attention snapped to the open door leading to the belly of the ship and in an instant his mind was spinning, centering on one thought.

_The waterbender._

Even as he darted toward the door, down the stairs, into the hull, he told himself that her hands were bound, that she couldn't bend without the use of her arms. And yet, doubt gnawed as his gut, tightened his chest, as the shouts intensified in the small space below deck. Ozai dashed around the corner and skidded to a stop outside the vacant doorframe. Yao and Zhang were sprawled unconscious across the floor and suddenly the girl's bonds fell away as she sliced through the rope with a ribbon of water.

A ribbon of water she was bending with her feet.

His gaze shot to the leak  _drip drip dripping_  and his brows drew low. The waterbender spun and ran through the door, registering Ozai's presence in the hull a breath too late. Her hand moved to attack the moment they collided and Ozai grabbed her hard and slammed her up against the wall, pinning her hands above her head. The girl grunted, kicking, and Ozai darted his other hand for his blade, cursing as he remembered he'd left it on his cot. She writhed as he tried to restrain her legs with his weight but the stance was awkward and an instant later she kicked the air and there came the unmistakable thud of piercing skin and a deep, stinging pain.

Ozai staggered back, the biting cold of ice embedded deep in his shoulder blade as the girl shoved him off, racing up the stairs. Ozai wrenched the spike of ice from his back with a grunt and took off after her.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Katara sprinted onto the deck, drenched to buckets in an instant. Her eyes met the captain's and in that brief moment, she vaguely registered something was wrong with his face. The captain's shock quickly melted to grit, but in the second it took for him to pull the dagger from his belt, the second Ozai burst onto the deck behind her, Katara was already gathering a massive wave. It surged and loomed over the ship a moment before it came crashing down, laying the captain flat and blowing Ozai back against the deck, the force of it pitching the ship dangerously on its side. Katara and the two men slipped and skidded down the wet, slanting deck, clawing to find purchase. Finally, it righted and the vessel gurgled as water rushed down into the ship's belly.

Ozai scrambled to his feet and nearly succeeded in tackling her, but Katara slipped through his grasp and hurtled herself overboard.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai shouted profanities as the waterbender leaped over the taffrail and into the dark waters below. The ship was starting to sink, he could see the black waves consuming the vessel, inch by inch. If he jumped in after her, he could lose the stones and the scroll. If he stayed with them and let her go, the mission would be just as futile, rendering the objects useless. He needed the girl.

There really was only one choice.

He spun toward Lu Da who was dragging himself up off the floor. "Get the satchel! Save the artifacts!" And then he jumped in after her.

Ozai hit the water just in time to grab on to the girl's ankle. The icy water was like pins and needles all over his body, filching the breath from his chest as he was sucked beneath the waves, the waterbender with him.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A wave was rushing up to carry her to freedom when a strong hand wrapped around her ankle, dragging her under. Katara kicked, broke free, spluttering to the surface, but Ozai's hands climbed up her body until his arms wrapped around her neck, his weight pulling her down a second time. They breached again, droplets of water sucked into her lungs as she gasped. She wrestled against him as Ozai tried to pin her arms behind her, an elbow finding his cheekbone with a  _crack_ , and his grip slackened for just an instant. Katara roused the sea beneath her and a wave surged up, carrying her toward the shoreline, Ozai's crushing grip still tight around her.

Katara had maneuvered waves before. It had been taxing then but nothing she couldn't handle for a time. But now, being tossed by a stormy sea, fighting with a powerful ex-tyrant on her back, weakened from lack of food and water, she was struggling to maintain her hold. The wave stuttered and they dipped beneath the surface just before Katara regained control, but she was slipping.

Ozai wrapped his arms tighter around her chest. "Take us back to the ship," he growled. "Right now."

Katara opened her mouth to say no, but briny water rushed in. His weight was throwing her off, tipping her control. They were careening toward the coastline now, close enough to where Katara would have slowed their pace and rolled the wave to allow for an easy landing. Instead, her shaking arms barely managed to see them to the coast.

They crashed hard onto the rocky shore and Katara's vision burst with blinding pain as her head collided with the ground, the wound from Ozai's hilt torn freshly open. Ozai slammed down on top of her and Katara scrambled to get out from under him but he pinned her there forcefully on her stomach. She gasped for air and the world dissolved to red as blood mixed with the rain, running into her eyes. Exhaustion and pain and fear engulfed her and she felt the last shreds of her energy drain away.

Ozai's breath came in ragged hitches, his hands clawing into her shoulders. The force of his strength crushed her against the hard, wet ground as she tried to breathe. "You treacherous little water serpent." Warm breath scraped against her ear, his tone dangerously low as though he could barely utter the words. In an instant, Ozai had both her wrists in one hand, retrieved a length of rope from his cloak with the other, and tied it around the tender skin there, twice. His weight shifted and then he seized her legs, securing them together tightly at her ankles.

Ozai looked back toward the sea. The ship was nearly submerged now, swallowed up beneath the surging black waters. He was murmuring something under his breath – a scroll, the stones, gone – and suddenly he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her over hard, hovering above her helpless form. Fresh panic fluttered in her chest.

"Do you realize what you've done?" he roared, a sound more creature than man. Rage exploded behind his fiery eyes as Ozai snarled at her with black fury, rain dripping off his nose, the ends of his hair. Katara's heart thudded violently, and she felt herself shrink back beneath him. "You will regret this," he growled through his teeth.

Ozai pushed himself off her then, sinking to his knees, and fell forward onto his hands with a groan, black hair falling in wet slicks around his face. His arms quivered and Katara knew it was every bit from rage and not a modicum of fatigue, and she was afraid he might actually try to kill her when a harsh scraping sound cut through the cacophony of rain and crashing waves.

A small dinghy was tossed up on the coast, occupied by a man whose form she recognized. Ozai glanced up and shot to his feet as the other man dropped the paddles with a clatter against the boat and waded through the seafoam onto the shore.

He shook water off his boots and shot a fuming look at Katara. "You just sunk my favorite ship."

"Lu Da," Ozai said, something like relief brimming in his voice. "I feared…"

"What, no faith in your captain?" He smirked, his arms full of objects distorted by the dark of night. "If I was that easy to get rid of, someone would've offed me a long time ago." He tossed something long and narrow through the air. Ozai caught it with ease, attached it to his belt. His sword, she realized in a cold rush through her abdomen.

"And the artifacts?" There was a strain as Ozai said it, as though he were afraid to ask.

The Captain held up a bag with a small smile. "Safe and sound."

A degree of tension faded from Ozai's posture as they met. He accepted the parcel, placing a hand briefly on the shorter man's shoulder. The simple gesture struck Katara. She'd almost call it caring, but that might be going too far. It was obvious Ozai was relieved not only for the safety of his bag.

Ozai turned then and stalked toward her, and suddenly fear was surging back through her like a broken dam. He stood over Katara and studied her, hands curled to fists and the captain came to stand beside him, arms crossed.

"So," he said in a frown. "Plan B?"

Ozai glowered and looked around. "Where do you think we are?"

A few faint lights winked in the distance. A small town. Katara's throat went tight. Help was within eyesight but unreachable.

Lu Da followed his gaze, scanning the coast. "Somewhere on the western coast of the Earth Kingdom, though it's hard to tell where exactly. But I'd say luck was with us in some capacity. The Earth Kingdom is not one to squander the sea's resources, most of their shores are littered with towns. Must have slid right into a rare pocket of rural coastline."

"Lucky us," Ozai growled, his eyes fixed dangerously on her again.

"We could sniff out a town tonight, while it's quiet. Replenish our supplies first thing before carting our asses to the nearest forest. Almost everything went down with the ship…"

"It's not worth the risk. By dawn, the port towns will be buzzing and this whole area could be far less quiet than we imagine. I think we should make our way inland and aim for more remote regions, as you said, forests, countryside before morning. Once we put some distance between us and the coast, we can search for a market. Get supplies then, pick up a map. Find our way to the college."

"Alright, then," Lu Da nodded. "You lead, I'll follow."

Ozai stooped down and speared her with a menacing look. A cold weight sunk heavy in her chest. He gathered up her weakened, bound body and hoisted her up and over his shoulder in an effortless motion, like a sack of potatoes, and the dark brooding sea slowly faded into the distance.

* * *

The messenger hawk was fading into the dreary grey horizon. Zuko leaned against the terrace balcony and watched it disappear as Sokka's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Chances are my father has already heard about Katara's disappearance with the Concord Assembly involved. But I know he'll appreciate the personal letter, given how, uh, close you and Katara have been."

Zuko released a tight breath. "He may appreciate it. He may also blame me for everything."

"Zuko," Sokka started, letting his hand drop from his shoulder, "none of this is your fault."

"Whether it is or isn't doesn't matter," he said turning toward him. "I pushed her away."

"You had to," Toph cut in.

"I know," Zuko sighed. "But I was essentially the catalyst. Now it seems she's done some unspeakable things or been kidnapped or both–"

"Ugh, I can't believe all of you could turn on Katara so easily!" Sokka said, throwing his hands out. "You've been talking about her like she's a criminal when we don't know for sure if she had anything to do with this."

"The evidence is pretty convincing though." Aang said, quirking an eyebrow.

"And I mean, Katara does sometimes get a little crazy when she's mad," Toph added.

"Okay, look," Sokka paced, rubbing his forehead, "I admit my sister has a jealous streak and can fly off the handle in a fit of passion, but usually for good reason. Like avenging our mom's murder. But this?" He looked at Zuko, shaking his head. "I know things didn't end well between you two, but the Katara I know isn't spiteful enough to go through with something like this. Consider it? Okay, yeah. Probably. But execute it? No way."

Aang placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sokka, it's totally normal to want to defend your sister. I don't blame you. But try to look at it objectively. Bloodbending was used on those guards, no question. Do you really think someone else could be responsible?"

"I think it's possible. And okay, let's assume for one crazy second that my sister  _is_  guilt of this. Maybe she was blackmailed. Maybe the rebels got to her and gave her no choice. I mean, what would possess her to – first of all – break into the prison tower and take out all those guards like that and – second of all – for the sick purpose of chumming around with the Loser Lord, the worst person in recent history?"

A voice from behind cleared its throat and they turned in unison to see Jing, one of Zuko's head servants, bow deeply. "Lord Zuko, forgive the interruption. A representative from the Concord Assembly has arrived to–"

Zuko straightened. "Bring them in."

He and the others walked briskly from the terrace back inside and through the hall into the throne room. Zuko took his place on the throne, flanked by Aang to his right and Sokka and Toph to his left. A moment later the Grand Councilor of the Concord Assembly was shown into the room. Jing bowed and stepped aside into the shadows as the Councilor approached.

"Fire Lord Zuko," the man bowed. "The Assembly has uncovered a bit of information that may be pertinent to the case and Lady Katara's disappearance."

His throat tightened and he nodded. "Go on."

"It appears Katara had a certain gentleman she was slipping out to see at night. A boyfriend, it would seem."

Zuko's stomach dropped. Katara had already started seeing someone else so soon? Could that have been why she was acting strangely?

"We are not entirely certain why she may have wanted it kept secret, but we were able to confirm the sightings of the couple by multiple witnesses. Of course, we are actively searching for the whereabouts of Ozai and Katara and have sent letters to the heads of each nation alerting them to the threat as well as petitioning for military aid if needed. In the meantime, we are trying to identify and locate the young man. As of yet, we have little to go on."

His head was spinning but Zuko managed a nod. "Thank you, Councilor."

"I will be in touch when we have more news." He bowed again and then turned and the servant showed him back through the door. It closed with a soft click that echoed in the large chamber.

The silence stretched. No one said anything for a long time.

"So. A boyfriend," Aang said sourly. "That was… quick."

"Yeah. Rebound maybe?" Toph shrugged.

Sokka straightened then, his face lighting up. "Wait, guys. Don't you see? If Katara was sneaking out to see a new boyfriend she didn't want us to know about, that would explain her odd behavior and slipping out at night. You heard the Councilor, people saw them together. The prison and asylum were probably just unfortunate coincidences. Maybe Katara was out with her boyfriend the night Ozai escaped and he took her hostage."

"Why would my father take Katara?"

"I don't know. Ransom, maybe? All I'm saying is that she might have been an innocent bystander after all."

"I'm not sold on it. If that's the case, where's her boyfriend?" Aang said. "Why hasn't he come forward in the search to find her?"

"And why would she want to keep him secret?" Zuko added.

"I mean." Sokka shifted on his feet, his gaze shifting pointedly between them with a sheepish smile. "I can think of two reasons."

"Look. Maybe Sokka's right," Toph said. "Maybe we jumped the wagon a little. This was definitely not what we expected and does give some reasonable doubt. I think we should back up a little and withhold judgement, at least until more evidence comes in."

"What more evidence do we need?" Aang said darkly.

"I admit, there is a crap ton of evidence against her. But, like Snoozles said, this would explain some things." Sokka smiled at her and Toph seemed to blush. Zuko quirked his brow.

"And who knows what resources the rebels have or what they're capable of," Sokka picked up. "It seems that right now, anything's possible."

* * *

Whispers and murmurs trailed in her wake as Azula was escorted through the slinking sanctuary. One side of her mouth tipped up as she savored the shock and awe in their voices, the way their worshipping eyes followed her through the halls.

She was led through a curtained-off doorway and stopped, flanked by a guard on each side. At a rickety desk a young man was bent over a roughly sketched map, his back to them. Even from this distance, she recognized his posture, the slope of his shoulders, the mop of dark brown hair.

One of the guards cleared his throat. "Sir. Someone to see you."

The man turned at his desk. His familiar tawny eyes met hers for a long moment. His eyes narrowed as he rose from the chair. He tilted his head and blinked once, twice, and a beat passed before he finally spoke.

"Princess Azula."

"Matsu Jin. Or, Matsu the Cleaver now, so I hear. Clever title. Did you think of it all by your big bad self?"

She could sense the guards shift nervously beside her. Matsu's lips pinched and a dark shadow crossed his face. He did not take his eyes off her as he addressed his men. "Leave us."

The two guards glanced at each other and then at Matsu and lastly at Azula. And finally, frowning, they slipped quietly out the door.

Matsu held Azula's gaze for a long time, unflinching. "How did you get out of that asylum?" he said at last. "Not on good behavior, I'm sure, and  _certainly_  not due to soundness of mind."

"Why, haven't you heard?" she chuckled. "My father has been liberated from prison, by a lowly water tribe peasant no less. Quaint, isn't it?"

"As a matter of fact, I have heard. I was personally involved in his plan. I posed as the girl's boyfriend to provide her an alibi. She played right into your father's hands." His face pinched into a frown. "What I  _don't_  understand is Ozai's poor judgment in turning you loose."

"Don't pretend like you know my father. You weren't his son-in-law, Matsu, much as you would have loved that, I know. Maybe if you hadn't broken up with me, you could have–"

"Is that what's this is about? Here to exact revenge on your ex-boyfriend?"

"Please. Don't flatter yourself. I'm not here for  _you_. Well, not entirely. I'm here because you're being demoted. I'm leading the rebel charge now. I'm to mobilize our forces in preparation to take over the capital while my father takes care of some loose ends. You don't really think he would have abandoned his baby girl to rot in that place, do you? His perfect prodigy, his rightful heir. I was the first stop he made after he gained his freedom. After we overthrow Zuko, I'm to be Fire Lady."

Matsu snarled, shook his head. "Then he's even more foolish than I thought."

"Hmm, that sounds an awful lot like blasphemy. I'd be careful if I were you."

"Oh, you're threatening me now?" he said, standing straighter, broadening his shoulders.

Azula smirked. "Of course not. Just reminding you."

He scowled. "I won't step down. Not until Ozai's returned and leads the charge himself."

"Then you are in direct defiance of Ozai's orders," she said, stepping forward.

"I will not see you on the throne, Azula," he said in a low tone, mirroring her step until they stood eye to eye. "You can be sure of that. Some here may admire you, even worship you. But they haven't seen the things I've seen, they don't know you the way I do." He shook his head again. "And you wonder why I broke up with you. Your place in that asylum was well-deserved. You would lead our nation to ruin faster than Zuko ever could."

Rage pulsed hot through her veins but she smoothed her brow as she stepped into him. Matsu leaned back a fraction but held his ground.

"I'm feeling generous today, so I'm going to give you one last chance to get out of my way, Matsu." Her voice was silky but did not mask the venom just beneath.

He almost smiled. A ghost on his lips. "Make me."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, a hard glint in her eyes. "This will be fun."

A breath of a moment fanned out between them. And then room filled with the  _shing_  of metal and the  _woosh_  of blue flame as Matsu spun and duck and drew his broadswords in a flash and was on her before she could launch another attack. He swung quickly and Azula jumped back, the metal singing through the air, once, twice, the duel swords slicing in a blur. The second bit into her cheek and Azula reeled back, pressing a hand against the wound and smelling the copper tang of blood.

Azula growled and barely had time to launch another attack before he lunged again, nearly slicing into her arm. He was fast. She'd never had to fight him before, not physically at least. And an odd flutter of fear rose up from her gut. She pushed it back down and shot another burst of flame. He spun back and cut toward her again.

"I didn't give myself the name Cleaver," he said, swinging his blades again in perfect harmony. The metal hummed dangerously close to her ear as she cut back just in time and spun into a kick. Blue flames barreled toward him and he darted past them with ease. "It was given to me by the masses you passed through when you walked in. When they chose  _me_  to be their leader, after they saw what I could do. Now, you get a personal demonstration."

Matsu's lips curled as he sprung forward again. He may be fast, she thought, but Azula was cunning. And cunning was better than fast any day. She waited for him to attack again and when he did she feinted right and then dodged left, leaving him exposed for just an instant. Azula kicked the sword out of his right hand and it sailed through air, clattering to the ground behind her. Matsu snarled and swung his other blade and Azula ducked back and then seized his arm, slamming him back against the wall, her other hand clutching his shoulder.

A grin split her face and she summoned just enough flame to heat the exposed skin of his wrist she had pinned there. Matsu dragged in a breath but fixed her with a venomous glare. She let it burn hotter, hotter, and finally he let out a throttled groan and the sword dropped from his hand with an echoing clatter.

Azula pressed her body into his and relished the way he tried to pull back, trapped against the wall. She let her lips graze from his cheek down to his lips, barely brushing against his as she spoke. "I wish it hadn't come to this, Matsu. You know, it doesn't have to be this way."

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. The glare he shot her was intense but his eyes raked from her eyes down to her lips. Her smile widened. And then he kissed her. Hard.

Azula smiled against his lips and pressed into him harder. His mouth moved with ferocity and Azula rose to match it, tilting her head, deepening the kiss until he was engulfing her. She bit his bottom lip, tasting blood, and he made a deep sound in his throat, and then she was clutching his shirt, his hands clawing her waist. He kissed her harder then, one hand fisting the tangles of her hair.

And then in one swift motion he yanked her head back and threw her off, darting for the sword at his feet. Just as she had expected him to do. He spun around and swung the blade at her but Azula was already firing off a bolt of lighting.

The electricity burst toward him and licked along his blade, conducted into his arm and through his body with a crackling buzz. Matsu dropped his weapon and curled to the ground in a splitting scream. Azula slowly came to stand over his singed body as he groaned and writhed on the floor. She knelt down and brought her lips to his ear.

"Never play games with a girl who can play them better. I'd have thought you'd learned that by now." She smiled as she stood and stepped over him, through the now open door and into the murmuring crowd. The looks on their faces told her they had heard the commotion in Matsu's quarters, but they must have known better than to try to interfere.

Azula climbed up onto a stone bench and squared her shoulders as she gazed out across the multitudes. "As most of you have heard by now, my father, Fire Lord Ozai, has been freed from prison and is on his way to taking his rightful place as supreme ruler of the world. He has sent me here to lead you all in the battle for our country, against Zuko's illegitimate regime. Your former leader, Matsu the Cleaver, has deliberately resisted Ozai's orders to step down and can no longer be trusted. It is time for us to take back our great country. To reclaim our place of authority and power in the world. The Phoenix King will rise again, and I will be your Fire Lady. And together, we will show the world just how great the Fire Nation can be!"

The cavern erupted into cheers. Azula smiled and glanced behind her to see Matsu slumped against the doorframe, spearing her with a dark look. She flashed him a wink before hopping down from the table into the swarm of worshipping faces.

* * *

The rain was unyielding, heavy sheets of it slanting and lashing as they walked through the night. Katara hung over Ozai's shoulder, wet hair clinging to her face, her limp body swaying lightly with each step. Water dripped off her nose and chin, and her clothing was heavy with water. She shivered, a chill permeating through her skin, down into her core.

Eventually, Katara must have fallen asleep somehow because when she opened her eyes, night was fading into hushed tones of grey. The rain had finally stopped though the air was still heavy with moisture. She could smell the sweet rot of fallen leaves and as her vision came into focus she realized they were surrounded by trees. They were in a forest.

She could tell by the labored sound of his breathing that Ozai was exhausted. They had been walking all night long. After a few more minutes, his pace slowed and he and the captain came to a stop. The shorter man collapsed against a tree with a groan as Ozai lowered Katara down against another tree and slumped beside her, much too close for comfort.

Neither man said anything. It was obvious that they needed rest. The morning was still quite dark, beneath the gloomy skies and the thick tree cover, and Katara felt the wave of fatigue engulfing her again as everything faded to black.

Katara awoke some hours later to a sea of trees awash in grey. Fog was creeping between the branches and over the ground, encasing the world in an eerie, ashen cocoon. Katara wriggled herself up from where she'd slumped in sleep against the tree and suppressed a groan. The ropes bit into her raw flesh tighter with every move. Her body was stiff and sore. Her arms were screaming to be stretched out, her shoulders aching from the way her hands were clasped tightly behind her.

It was too quiet and Katara looked around to find she was alone. Both Ozai and the captain were nowhere in sight. Confusion and fear and hope were threading through her veins. She reined it in, forced herself to think and focus as the opportunity took shape. If there were something she could rub the rope against, something sharp or jagged, maybe there was a chance…

Of course she knew there was nothing near sharp enough in the forest and Ozai had taken his sword with him. Katara's eyes landed on the pointed knot of a thick tree root breaching the ground. It was worth a try. She shimmied over to the exposed root, the ropes biting harder into her skin with every move. She felt for the jagged knot and then began rubbing the rope vigorously against it. It slipped a couple times, the bark scraping against her arm and she could feel the warm wet of broken skin, but she didn't think about that. Didn't think about anything except that she had to act fast and how close she could be to freedom if this worked.

A twig snapped and Katara startled and spun to see Ozai fixing her with a dark scowl, the captain standing a pace behind him. Fear darted through her and Katara's heart thumped erratically against her ribcage as Ozai stepped forward. She recoiled as he came to kneel down inches before her.

"That," he began in a slow, menacing voice, "is a very bad decision. One that will not end well for you." He leaned in closer and skewered her with a look that filched the breath from her chest. "If I didn't need you, waterbender, I would have killed you on that beach." His voice was so low it was almost a whisper, but the edges were sharper than a blade. "And before you thank the stars that I  _do_  need you, for now, remember there are some punishments that make death seem the more favorable."

Ozai paused and let his words sink in. His eyes on her were like a kick in the gut. Katara turned her face away but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him again. She fought the urge to shudder.

"You do not want to further test the limits of my patience with you, girl. If you hope to live after your usefulness to me is exhausted, you will stay in line and there will be no more of this nonsense. Have I made myself clear?"

Katara cast her eyes to the ground, blinking as she fought to hold on to the last threads of her resolve.

" _Answer_  me."

Her nostrils flared and she squared her jaw, but reluctantly Katara nodded, refusing to look at him.

"Good. Now that we have that settled." He pulled away and Katara instinctively looked up to see him drop his satchel to the ground. He reached in and pulled out some mushrooms, a few apples dotted with faint brown rot, vines of some sort of berries. "You must be starving."

Ozai held an apple out to her with a faint smirk and feral hunger clawed its way through her, followed by fluttering dread at knowing she would lose some part of herself if she gave in. It took all her strength to turn away.

He made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Is that any way to thank the man who foraged this morning so you might have something to eat?" Her eyes slid to him in a cold glare but she couldn't help the way they drifted to the apple hovering inches from her mouth. His smirk hardened and he touched the fruit lightly against her lips. Something inside her bristled and her hands clenched to fists behind her. But she was so weak and her head was woozy and she knew she didn't have a choice.

So, closing her eyes, she willed her mouth open with a shudder and took a small bite. Katara had to force herself to chew against the revulsion that gnawed at letting herself be fed by him. The apple was tangy rather than sweet and not very satisfying, but the hunger was suddenly overwhelming and she devoured the rest, and then a mushroom. Ozai picked off some of the berries and placed them slowly in her mouth one by one. He was toying with her and enjoying this. Katara glared at him, her nostrils flaring. She hated him, hated herself for being so hungry, hated the way a basic need could be used against her, reduce her.

She was still hungry, but Ozai did not retrieve any more food from the satchel. Instead, he pulled out a black canteen. "The rest of us have to eat too," he said with a small smirk as he popped off the cork. Katara could hear the sloshing of water as he held the canteen to her lips. She shot him with an icy look but let him tip the canteen and then cool water was rushing down her parched throat, spilling down her chin, and suddenly she didn't care about Ozai or her pride or anything other than the water, and the way it felt like life against her withering body.

"There now. Was that so hard?" Ozai tossed the satchel to Lu Da. The captain caught it and sat down against a tree to eat, studying her. She was scowling back at the man when suddenly a hand came up against the side of her head. Katara flinched and jerked back.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"Let me see it." The wound on her head, she realized. He reached up again and Katara fought the urge to shrink back under his touch. His fingers grazed lightly over the ragged wound and she gasped, her eyes clamping shut at the pain. He drew back his hand and Katara opened her eyes to find him holding a tattered cloth, dampening it with the canteen water.

He reached up again and dabbed the wet cloth against her wound, squeezing water over the dried blood and wiping it away. Dabbing the wound again. Slowly, methodically. He brushed a damp hair out of the way with his fingertip and then wiped again. His touch was careful, almost gentle and it all just felt so wrong so she kept her eyes fixed on a beetle crawling along the ground and suppressed a shiver. She would have almost preferred the roughness she had come to expect – at least it was familiar, but this…

She lost sight of the beetle beneath a pile of rotting leaves and finally risked a glance at Ozai. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice came out smaller than she'd intended.

He didn't meet her eyes, but kept his gaze on her wound. "To keep infection from setting in."

"You know what I mean. I mean  _all_  of this. You said you need me. Why?"

He took in a breath and then sat back, wringing out the cloth. Katara watched it rain red onto the forest floor. Ozai studied her for a long moment, just a corner of his mouth tipping up, and she fought against the urge to look away. Finally, without a word, he braced his hands on his knees and stood. As though on signal, Lu Da stood and threw the satchel over his shoulder, popping the rest of a mushroom into his mouth as he came to stand next to Ozai.

"Ready when you are," the captain said. "Should reach a market before dusk."

Ozai nodded. He stooped down and fixed Katara with a smirk. "Time to go." He picked her up, hoisting her over his shoulder, his hand holding tightly against the crest of her thigh as they began to walk and she felt a rush of heat to her face. Katara tried her best not to think about where his hand was and forced her mind on to other things.

They were heading for a market. There would be people. How did they expect to hide a conspicuously tied up water tribe girl? A spark of hope fluttered in her chest.

* * *

The hallways were dim, the lanterns having been turned down as the evening drained to night. Zuko walked along the corridor toward his chambers, staring into nothing. He felt emotionally drained and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and shrug off this nightmare if just for a few hours.

He reached his door and the guards nodded and parted as it was opened for him. Zuko entered and gave a long sigh and had begun to remove his royal robes when a soft knock came at the door. His teeth clenched and he shut his eyes. He wanted to ignore them but he knew that would be unwise given the state of affairs. So with a tight exhale he turned and opened the door.

Three of his advisors stood there, bowing fist into hand. "Pardon the interruption, my Lord. But we have an urgent matter we wish to discuss. May we come in?"

Zuko stepped back and motioned the three of them in, closing the door behind them. He ushered them into the heart of his chamber and turned to address them.

"What is it?"

"We know that you and Lady Mai have already talked of getting married sooner than planned, and that you moved the wedding, but…" The man shifted and cleared his throat. "In light of the current events… we strongly urge you to marry now."

Zuko stifled a sharp laugh and shot a look that made his advisors flinch in unison. "Now?" Zuko barked, throwing up his hands and looking dramatically around the room. "As in right here? Right this minute?"

The man's voice came small and shaky as he looked at the floor. "A–as in tomorrow morning, my Lord."

Zuko shook his head, glaring eyes searching pleadingly between the three men.  _Tomorrow._  His thoughts were scrambling for a way out. "But, that's so soon. We'd need more time to prepare–"

"I'm afraid there's no time now for elaborate show," the second advisor cut in. "The wedding would be a small, private affair, a smart political move that will strengthen your place on the throne. And you would be very wise to try immediately for an heir."

He felt the color drain from his face. His head started spinning and he grasped the back of a tall upholstered chair to keep from sinking.

The third advisor took the barest step forward. "We know this is a lot to take in, Sire. I wish there was another way. However, we have no choice but to act quickly. Perhaps, once the conflict is dampened, we could host a ball in celebration of your mar–"

"I don't want a ball." The words were strangled, almost a whisper.

The first man glanced nervously at his colleagues. "My Lord?"

"I don't want any of this!" he bellowed, an arm slicing the air, his head snapping up to expose the pain etched on his face. His advisors recoiled, shoulders bent, hands clasped meekly in front of them as they stared at their feet.

"I want to marry for love, not politics. I'm not ready for a child. I have no idea how to save my country from the brink of civil war or how to heal the wounds my father caused on the world. I can't do this!" He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and paced away. He stopped and leaned against a tall chest, his breaths coming in short ragged bursts. "I don't know how."

Several moments later, a hand came down tentatively on his shoulder. "These are trying times, my Lord. But you do not go it alone. You have advisors who will guide you, friends and council who would go with you to the ends of the earth…"

Zuko just shook his head where he leaned against the chest. "I will not punish others with a burden that is not theirs. If I go down, I will go down alone." The man took a breath to speak but Zuko spoke first. "Leave me."

The hand lifted from his shoulder. The room was silent for a long time. Zuko did not turn around to see if they had gone, but eventually he heard the soft click of the door shutting as they left him in solitude.

He pushed off the chest and went straight to the small bar in the corner, pouring himself a tall, strong drink, much taller and stronger than he probably should, swigging it back in one long gulp. He slammed the glass down on the tray and threw his robes to the floor and then climbed into bed, wishing that sleep could swallow him whole.


	12. Silhouette

Zuko stood before the tall mirror in his quarters, watching in the reflection as Aang straightened the ceremonial mantle on his shoulders. The Avatar's mouth was a thin line on the stony terrain of his face. His eyes didn't rise to meet Zuko's even as he gave a series of short, harsh tugs to smooth out the ornate satin robes at Zuko's back. He stiffened against it and shot a look at Aang through the mirror. Aang didn't look up.

Having the Avatar as his best man, the advisors had said, would be a symbol of the newfound peace the Fire Nation strived for. But standing here with him now, the air was as tight as a breath held in too long. It felt anything but peaceful. Zuko twisted the signet ring around his finger, feeling the cool slick of sweat on his hands. A few more minutes and he would be standing at the altar exchanging vows with Mai. Nausea churned in the empty pit of his stomach and he suddenly felt too hot, his heartbeat sluggish. He had known for weeks that he would have to marry Mai. But knowing it then and standing before it now were very different things, and he had not expected it to happen so suddenly.

It wasn't that he didn't like Mai. In fact, he cared a great deal for her. They had grown up together, been friends for most of their lives. Marrying her was not the worst thing, he knew. But no matter how the advisors sold it, no matter how hard he tried, he had never seen her as more than a friend, had never felt for her the way he wished he could. The kind of love he'd always dreamed of feeling for the woman he would marry.

The love he had felt for Katara. With her, things had been so natural, effortless, like breathing. With Mai, it was like trying to shove together two puzzle pieces that didn't fit. You could try to force them, press them together until their edges warped and frayed, but ultimately, no matter how you turned it, they would never belong together.

His thoughts strayed to the Assembly's recent discovery. Katara had been seeing someone new. A secret boyfriend. Already. How could she have moved on so quickly, so easily, when they had only officially been separated for so short a time? The revelation stung, but something about it kept nagging him. Something didn't seem right. If she'd been trying to make Zuko jealous, she would not have kept it hidden. But if it was real for her, why would she have cared to hide it at all? The image of the charred remains of the asylum flashed in his mind and his chest tightened. What if she'd gotten swept up in the wrong crowd? Had her boyfriend coerced her into doing terrible things? Had she been kidnapped and forced to do it? Had she done it of her own free will?

Aang gave another terse pull on his robe, dragging him from his thoughts. His eyes flicked over his reflection, to where the light caught on the edge of the traditional wedding headpiece affixed to Zuko's topknot. A hair had come loose along his forehead. Zuko swept it back into place and cleared his throat.

"Say something, Aang," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Please. You're my best man."

Aang stopped and returned his gaze in the mirror. His grey eyes were flinty, cold. "You want me to say something?" He turned Zuko him around to face him and his eyes cut him through. "You stole the love of my life from me only to throw it all away in the end because of  _politics_." His voice was low, brittle. "Now she's gone, and here you are, getting married to a woman you don't even love after destroying what I had with Katara, and running her off to do spirits know what, and everything's ruined all because of you. You're so selfish–"

"Ugh, not this again," Zuko grumbled. "I thought we'd moved past that, Aang. That you'd made peace with it. I'm sorry, but she didn't choose you. You'll have to accept that one day."

"Yes she did, at first. But then you had to go and make a move on your best friend's girlfriend. What kind of person does that? And now it was all for nothing. Such a waste. You should have at least pushed back against the advisors, fought to save what you stole from me. But instead you pushed  _her_  away, Zuko."

"Not because I  _wanted_  to! I was forced to."

"You weren't  _forced_  to," he spat. "You allowed them to coerce you into something you didn't want so they could fulfill their own vision of the Fire Nation. Maybe you're just too weak a Fire Lord to fulfill yours."

"That's not true! How dare you–?!"

"Katara was mine, we were good together–"

"Yours?" Zuko gave a biting laugh. "She's not property–"

"You never should have–"

"She didn't  _love you_ , Aang!"

His voice boomed through the chamber, echoing against the walls, and Zuko regretted the words the instant they passed his lips. He could tell the raw edge had found its mark and Aang took in a pained breath, his features darkening, brows drawing low. Silence stretched between them, pulling so tight Zuko thought the moment might snap.

His shoulders dropped with a tense sigh. "Aang, I'm s–"

"Don't," Aang rasped. The Avatar stepped back with a glare and turned toward the door. "Mustn't keep your bride waiting," he said bitterly. "Happy wedding day."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

In the Fire Nation, royal weddings were a grand spectacle. The courtyard would be adorned with lanterns and sweet-smelling flowers, brimming with guests from noble families far and wide. An impressive reception would follow in celebration of the bride and groom, overflowing with only the finest foods and saké. There would be music and dancing and merriment long into the wee hours of night.

Zuko, dreamer that he was, had always imagined that his wedding would play out in similar fashion, head over heels in love with his bride. Now, as he walked down the dimly lit corridor and toward the rarely used chamber in the east wing of the palace, his heart felt like it was shrinking. His breath caught and suddenly he couldn't breathe as Aang reached out to place a hand on the doorknob and glanced sidelong at him. Zuko's feet suddenly felt impossibly heavy and he wanted to tell Aang to wait, to give him a minute, but he was already pushing the door open.

The chamber felt like a yawning chasm, nearly empty now save for the single podium near the far wall. Candles flickered in sconces, light wicking off the old tapestries that lined the room. A fire sage stood upon the podium, surrounded below by Zuko's advisors on either side, grim-faced and solemn. Toph, Sokka, and Ty Lee were waiting just off to the side. And standing there, at the foot of the podium, was Mai. She was dressed in an elegant black and red gown, her hands clasped gracefully in front of her. A sheer red veil flowed down over her face, obscuring her expression. When the door opened with a resounding click in the chamber, she looked up, her posture straightening.

Zuko felt a hand at his back and then Aang was pushing him through the door, following him into the chamber. He couldn't remember walking but he must have because suddenly he was standing beside Mai at the foot of the podium. They turned to face each other and gave three short bows – one for the past, one for the present, and one for the future. The way brides and grooms did in the Fire Nation when they met under the altar. He tried to swallow through the tightness in his throat and risked a glance at Mai. She seemed to smile though it was hard to tell through the sheer red fabric. Zuko returned what he hoped was a smile but it felt like a grimace.

"We are gathered here this morning to honor the marriage of Fire Lord Zuko and Lady Mai…" The fire sage began to speak but somewhere the words grew garbled and distant, like his head was under water, and Zuko couldn't breathe and he was drowning, and he didn't know how long he had blacked out when his name dragged him up to the surface.

"Zuko," Mai hissed again.

Zuko blinked and looked around to see his advisors staring at him and shifting uneasily, Toph and Sokka and Ty Lee exchanging concerned glances. Behind him, he heard Aang clear his throat, felt his fist nudge him quietly in the back. Zuko looked back at Mai, swallowing the lump in his throat, and felt sweat beading on his neck.

"Your vows," she said, lower. "You know, the part where you say 'I do?'"

"Oh, sorry. Guess I'm a little… tired." He tried to smile but his eyes felt dull and lifeless. Zuko took a breath and steadied his voice. "I do."

"And do you, Lady Mai, take Fire Lord Zuko to be your husband in sacred marriage, promising to be loyal to him and care for him in all seasons of your life as long as you live?"

"I do."

The fire sage nodded. "Then it is my honor to pronounce you husband and wife. Fire Lord and Fire Lady. You may kiss the bride."

Zuko took a small step forward and forced his shaking hands steady as he pulled the crimson veil up and draped it back over her pinned up hair. Mai smiled and leaned in. And he kissed her. Her lips were warm and pressed passionately into his as soft cheers and clapping went up around them, the whole the room loosening like a pent-up breath finally released. Mai took his hand in both of hers and smiled at him. The genuine warmth of it made his shriveled heart sink. She deserved so much more than this. Than what he could give her.

Zuko tried to draw the pieces of his face into the semblance of a smile as Ty Lee skipped over and hooked her arms around Mai's with a giddy yelp.

"I'm so happy for you guys," she squealed. "You look just stunning, Mai. Your aura is positively glowing."

Sokka and Toph appeared beside him, smiling, Sokka's hand giving a firm squeeze to his shoulder.

"Congratulations, buddy."

"Yeah. It looked like you might lose your breakfast there for a minute, but you pulled through," Toph smirked. "Good job. Ow." She rubbed her ribs where Sokka's elbow had jabbed.

"Yes, we're all very happy for you." Aang stepped out from behind him and gave him a tight smile.

The doors opened and all heads turned to see one of the head servants entering the room with a cowed posture.

"A thousand pardons for the interruption, Fire Lord," he said, bowing toward the floor. "But the Grand Councilor of the Concord Assembly has arrived. He claims to have urgent news and I assumed you would–"

"Show him to the throne room."

Zuko cut briskly toward the regal chamber where the Grand Councilor was already waiting. The man gave a hurried, shallow bow.

"Forgive me–"

"What is it?" Zuko cut him off. "Have you found my father? Katara?"

"No. Not yet. But our skilled team of investigators has uncovered what appears to have been a great disturbance in the woods near the asylum. Some kind of struggle. And given the proximity to the facility, we believe it to have been caused by Ozai, perhaps in a fight to take Katara. The investigators followed its trail from there to where it ended along the eastern coast. There were tracks in the earth where a ship appeared to have scraped up."

"Okay, so he fled the country? Is that all you have?!"

"No, Lord Zuko. We believe that Ozai has fled to the Earth Kingdom."

* * *

A spiderweb glittered with beads of water. Pine needles and debris were tangled within and hung suspended, wavering in a subtle breeze. Katara watched the spider lace its way toward a fly that had become trapped there, its wings and body working frantically to escape.  _There's no use fighting_ , she wanted to tell it.  _You'll only make it worse._

They had walked through the morning, into the afternoon and had come to stop next to a meandering stream, a mile or so outside of a village market, she had overheard Ozai and Lu Da say. They had discussed how to hide  _the waterbender_ , as though she hadn't been standing right there, and had ultimately decided that Ozai would go into town alone to retrieve supplies and a map while the other man guarded her a safe, secluded distance away.

Now, afternoon was creeping into the hours just before twilight. The forest seemed so quiet, made quieter by the long, tense silence that had drawn out between her and the captain. Katara pressed herself back into the tree where she sat, the rough bark scratching at her skin. Her gaze caught on the tattered parchment that had been draped over a thin branch on the next tree. Whatever it was was obviously important to Ozai. He had withdrawn it from his cloak with the care of someone handling an explosive, peeled the soaked edges apart with an audible curse, desperation in his eyes as they had raked over the words. And then he had hung it to dry on the tree. It made her nervous, the way he doted upon it. If it was that important to Ozai, it couldn't be good.

Somewhere in the distance, the ticking tap of a woodpecker cut through her thoughts. Even when the forest was quiet, it still murmured with the white noise of living things, its own heartbeat. Little furry creatures rustling through fallen leaves, the wind in the branches, the soft burbling of the nearby stream. All those little noises made Katara feel less alone, like she was a part of it in some way. Something she couldn't hurt or ruin.

How had she made such a mess of things? It felt like an eternity since she had sneaked through the tunnels to hold secret meetings in Ozai's cell. She had felt so fearless then, emboldened by the safety of the bars containing him and her refusal to give up on Zuko. She had misjudged her situation and Ozai terribly and it had cost her. It had cost her everything. Zuko had still refused her despite all her efforts. And if Zuko and her friends didn't know what'd she done yet, they soon would. She tried to cling to the hope that no one had seen her face beneath the mask. That maybe no one could prove she had been responsible for turning evil loose on the world again. But the hope was a hollow void in her chest.

Katara's attention was drawn by the feeling of eyes on her and she looked up. The captain, Lu Da if she remembered correctly, was sitting against the tree across from her, whittling the end of a thick tree branch into a point and watching her now with a mixture of disquiet and curiosity, as if she might do a trick. Katara shot him a dark look and Lu Da had the decency to act intimidated before he cocked a cool, easy smile and turned back to his task.

Something inside her simultaneously slackened and prickled at his relaxed posture. The man had an easy air of confidence, like a predator accustomed to the top of a food chain. Of someone well aware of their own strength. And she could see why, judging from the thick muscles that corded beneath the tattooed skin from his forearms all the way up to his neck.

Her eyes caught on the shiny raw skin on the side of his face and she grimaced inwardly. It was a vicious, angry red, blistered and peeling, an obvious burn and a bad one at that. His attention now was fixed on the sharp point being carved at the end of the stick and she stared until finally his mouth tipped tightly downward.

"It's not polite to stare," he said gruffly without looking up.

Katara bristled and looked away briefly. She glanced back and studied the man from the corner of her eye for a moment. "What happened to your face?"

The man gave a long, hard blink and leveled a sour look on her. "I bet you're fun at parties. You start all your conversations this way? Pointing out people's flaws?"

Katara shrugged a single shoulder. "Only when half their face is melted off."

Lu Da made a sound somewhere between a breath and a laugh. He sat back against the tree and looked away, crossing his arms, and Katara thought the conversation had ended when he finally spoke again. "Bunch of angry fire-shooting golems. True story." His mouth twitched into a crooked half smile. "Looks that bad, huh?"

"It looks…" Katara wanted to say disgusting, but she didn't. It seemed like a harsh thing to say, even to him, though she really didn't care how it might make him feel. Maybe she should say it, she thought, but held her tongue. "…Painful," she settled on at last.

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged. "I've had worse."

Katara continued to watch him as he worked the knife, thin curls of wood fluttering to the ground. She couldn't place it but, despite everything, the man projected an air of… decency? She wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was simply the contrast between his at-ease persona and Ozai's starkly callous one.

"I could heal it for you…" The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

His brows quirked up slightly and he studied her. "A kindly offer. Only problem is, I'd have to untie your hands for you to do that, wouldn't I?" He gave a small, hard smile and shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Clever girl. Full marks for effort. But any chance you may have had of fooling me went down with that ship."

"That's not what I–"

"What's this?" A deep voice cut in and Katara turned to see Ozai towering behind her, his arms and bag brimming with supplies – another larger satchel, sleeping bags, food, bundles of clothes. His mouth pinched in a frown as his glaze slid from Lu Da to her and he dropped the supplies at his feet. Something hardened in his eyes. "Having a little heart to heart?"

"The girl here just offered to heal my face," Lu Da said coolly.

"Is that so?" He looked between them, his hard, distrusting gazing fixing on her a beat too long and she tensed. His eyes narrowed. He seemed to consider it, just the barest softening of his brow. "Perhaps we should see to it. Since you're feeling  _so_  philanthropic today."

Ozai knelt before her and wrapped a hand around her arm. Katara's throat tightened. "If I untie these ropes and you move so much as one iota in the wrong direction, I will make you very sorry. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He studied her a moment longer and then untied her ropes, grasping her arm and helping her up to stand on her awkward, bound feet. He maintained a tight grip to keep her from falling and, she assumed, to keep her from trying anything. Katara shuddered and slowly drew water from the stream beside them, careful not to make any sudden movements. Lu Da stepped into her reach, eyeing her tensely as Katara brought the water up to his face. He flinched and hissed at the contact and Katara hesitated. And then she closed her eyes and took a breath.

The water began to glow a fluorescent blue where it touched the wounded skin. Lu Da inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut, his brows furrowed deeply. The raw, papery surface of the blistered slowly skin began to smooth, the shiny, deep red fading to a lusterless pink, the edges shrinking toward each other. The burn was deep though and some time had passed since the injury, and Katara could tell it would scar. The skin knit back together finally. But where there had been a mirror image of the tattoos on the other side of his face, there was now a ghastly wrinkled echo of a purplish burn.

Katara withdrew her hands and Lu Da exhaled and opened his eyes, running a hand along the shiny new skin.

"I'm sorry," she said hesitantly, "I couldn't keep it from scarring."

The captain walked over to the stream and leaned over, examining his reflection. After a moment, he gave a small harrumph and returned with a small, crooked grin.

"I think I like it better this way. More formidable, adds a little flare." He grazed his fingers along the puckered skin.

Katara almost wanted to smile but pressed it back as Ozai's large hands reclaimed her wrists and bound them behind her again. She shot him a look and he only smirked.

"You didn't think this was a permanent arrangement, did you? After that wonderful little demonstration at sea?" He shook his head and she slumped back to the ground with a scowl. Turning to Lu Da, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder, one side of his mouth curling slightly. "The scar does suit you."

The captain huffed a solitary laugh and Ozai stalked over to where the supplies were strewn on the ground. He rummaged through the larger bag, retrieving a large roll of parchment and unrolled it, and Katara could see from the lines twisting across it that it was a map. The two men stood over it a little distance away, conversing in tones too low to make out and raking a finger along one side. Ozai nodded finally and then rolled it back up and replaced it in the bag before making his way to the scroll draping from the tree branch.

He picked it up delicately. Katara watched his expression change as he examined it, from apprehension to something else altogether. A subtle lift of his brow, the slight widening of his eyes, the softening of his shoulders. Relief, she realized, and her stomach coiled. That definitely was not good.

He took care to roll it up gently and then stooped down where the supplies were strewn on the ground. He placed the scroll carefully in the smaller bag along with the food and the clothing. Then he stuffed the sleeping bags into the new larger bag and stood up. Lu Da slung his crossbow over his shoulder and shifted on his feet.

"We need to get moving if we want to gain some distance from the village before nightfall." He threw the large satchel to Lu Da and tossed the smaller one onto his back. Then he looked at Katara and his eyes creased with a cold smile.

She drew back and felt her face warm slightly, remembering the last time he'd carried her. "Can't I just walk?"

"No," he said evenly as he picked her up at the waist and lifted her over his shoulder. The angle was awkward with the bag strapped to his back. His forearm had to cross beneath her bottom to keep her from slipping. Katara tensed and closed her eyes against the flush on her cheeks, willing the next break to come quickly.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

They walked for hours upon hours, Katara hanging over Ozai's shoulder, until the shadows grew heavier around them and dusk was drawing out the last breaths of daylight. This part of the forest was dense and tight with trees, at times felt more prison than forest. Katara pushed back against the waves of claustrophobia and closed her eyes.

They finally stopped in a rare clearing between a small grove of trees. Ozai was crouched next to the beginnings of a young fire. Katara had been watching him toil with two dry sticks, rubbing them together over a pile of kindling for what felt like ages. She didn't bother to hide her wry smile as the former Fire Lord struggled to form a tiny spark. What beautiful, poetic irony.

Lu Da had managed to take his share of food and change into the dry clothes Ozai had picked up while waiting for the sparks to catch and now he sat atop his sleeping bag, staring absently at the sputtering flames. He looked tired, faint circles blossoming under his eyes.

"Well," he said, climbing into his sleeping bag. "I give up." He nestled an arm under his head and rolled over.

Ozai blew lightly on the small flames and they grew, catching quickly on the dried tinder and finally he stood, wiping his sleeve across his forehead and shrugging his cloak off, hanging it over a branch to dry. Katara glanced briefly at Lu Da – he hadn't moved so much as an inch – and then back at Ozai and her stomach went rock hard. He was pulling off his grey prison tunic, throwing it onto a nearby stump. The fire flickered, casting shadows that caught in the grooves of his broad, heavy muscles. Her skin pulsed cold and then hot, and Katara stiffened and looked quickly away.

Lu Da was asleep, his quiet snores muffled by the chorus of crickets surrounding them. Katara stared into the flames licking up toward the sky. It cast the forest around them in harsh, writhing shadows. Katara risked a cautious glance back at Ozai and her heart leaped into her throat. He had changed into a fresh black tunic and was already looking at her. Her toes curled, the ropes biting harder into her skin, and her vulnerability descended upon her like a heavy weight as he walked toward her and sat down too close. She shifted and started to draw back when he held out a strip of dried meat.

"Eat up." He didn't smile, but the corners of his eyes creased just slightly.

Katara's mouth twisted downward and her face reddened. But this time, she didn't fight him and instead grudgingly took a bite. They sat in silence, Ozai feeding her with one hand and himself with the other. When they had finished, Ozai brushed the crumbs from his hands and studied her. His eyes dragged over her body and he nodded toward her.

"Those Water Tribe clothes are going to draw attention in the Earth Kingdom. I'm afraid you'll have to need change."

"Right, I'll do that. Just as soon as I'm not bound up like some animal. How do you expect me to dress myself like this?"

"I don't," he said simply. "I'm going to help you."

"What?!" Katara shrieked. "No way! Untie me and I'll do it myself!"

" _That_  is not going to happen."

"Oh, like I can't see right through your little chivalrous act to  _help_  me get dressed. You think I don't know exactly what you have in mind?"

A deep laugh rose from his chest and made her flinch. It seemed so out of place. "If you think this is a ploy to take advantage you, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you tonight." He smirked and she glowered. "I do, however, refuse to risk any more trouble from you for the sake of a little modesty. So…"

He began to untie the ropes at her ankles, never taking his eyes off of hers. "Try  _anything_ ," he said as her feet came free, "and you will regret it." He reached his hands up to her waist, his fingers sliding beneath her waistband, and Katara's body was screaming, frozen, as he dragged her pants down her legs. Her entire face and neck went impossibly hot, her skin prickling feverishly. Her stomach dropped like cold lead and she wanted to shrink into herself.

Katara could hear the violent thudding of her heart and she braced herself for a fight, for the moment he would spring upon her like a predator on prey. But to her surprise and intense relief, Ozai kept his eyes fixed on the damp clothing sliding down her legs, decisively away from her exposed bindings. He grasped the new brown pair of pants and slipped them back over her legs and up toward her hips, and she had to maneuver herself so he could guide them up around her waist, his body sliding much too close to hers for comfort. Katara's face was burning and she tried to swallow through the dryness of her throat. His hands didn't linger but his eyes rose to hers in a cursory glance.

Then he drew back and replaced the rope around her ankles and untied her wrists. Katara rotated her sore joints for a moment and locked eyes with Ozai. Her breath caught as he brought his hands to the hem of her tunic, dragging it up, his fingers grazing briefly along her skin. She flinched but he only pulled the damp tunic over her head and let it drop to the ground with the discarded pants. He placed the new dark green tunic into her hands and she blinked, clutching it to her chest.

"Put it on. Don't make any sudden moves."

Katara hesitated, surprised and relieved at the small gesture, but then tugged the tunic over her head and smoothed it out. A moment later, he had both her wrists in one of his hands, tying them behind her again and then came to kneel down in front of her. Ozai's amber eyes blazed in the firelight, flickering as they burned into her. He smirked.

"I'm curious." His voice was smooth but piercing, like silk with a knife's edge. "What do you believe has been stopping me from taking advantage of you before now? You think I'd need to pull a ruse to do that? If I'd wanted to, waterbender, I could have taken you already." Ozai's smirk broadened and he lifted a brow, tilting his head. "But dirty peasants just aren't my type."

Katara let out a sharp snort and curled her lip in a snarl, her nostrils flaring. "And sadistic megalomaniacs aren't mine," she bit back. He actually had the nerve to smile as he pushed off his knees.

She shot daggers at his back as he shoved a long stick into the hot coals, a flurry of sparks belching up from the flames. Toying with her. Of course. Her hands curled so tight she could feel her knuckles go white despite the last wisps of fear still threading through her veins. Though she had to admit, she felt so much better now, even a shade comfortable without the cold cling of soggy fabric on her skin.

Amidst the crackling of the fire and the refrain of crickets, she heard Lu Da mumble something incoherent from where he slept on the opposite side of the fire. Ozai knelt at the pile of supplies and grabbed the two remaining sleeping bags, unrolling them side by side next to her. Hot dread fluttered anew in her chest.

"What are you doing?"

"We need sleep. We have a long journey tomorrow." He threw open her sleeping bag and then started climbing into his own.

Katara recoiled. "Um, look around. This area's big enough, I can sleep more than  _two inches_  away from you."

"Perhaps if you could manage to earn an  _ounce_  of my trust… unlikely –" he said, holding the sleeping bag open for her with a spearing look – "I would consider it. Forgive me if I don't wait with bated breath. Now, get in and go to sleep."

They sat locked in an intense gaze. She knew she had little choice, ultimately, but that didn't stop her from stalling anyway, partly because she  _could_  and she would cling to whatever scraps of control she had left, and partly because the last thing she wanted to do was spend the night in a vulnerable state so close to Ozai.

Though, reluctantly, she had to admit the way he had conducted himself as he had changed her clothes surprised her. He could have done anything he wanted to her. But he hadn't forced himself on her, as she had expected. His hands hadn't  _accidentally_  slipped where they weren't wanted. Even his eyes had kept from wandering. It was as though, somewhere deep in the corners of his cruel, twisted mind, Ozai actually knew how to be a decent human being.

Which was, of course, absurd.

Ozai's brows drew low as his gaze bore into her, still holding the sleeping bag open. If he hadn't jumped her when she was half naked, odds are he wouldn't when she was fully clothed inside her sleeping bag. She hoped. So, despite the fear that still fluttered in her chest, Katara took a breath and shimmied herself into the warm, padded sack beside him.

He eyed her for a moment longer and then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Katara watched him for a moment, still half expecting him to try something. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes, but Katara could tell by the rising and falling of his chest that he was still awake.

She curled in on herself, and tried to find sleep. It wasn't easy with her body bound in a very uncomfortable position and, at first, sleep wouldn't come. In a weak moment she wished Zuko were there. He used to curl around her in bed, wrap his arms around her, making her thoughts quieter. Katara would close her eyes and let everything hush, first her mind and then the world as Zuko's touch would drag her down into sleep. But Katara caught herself, dug her fingernails into the pads of her hands again, and remembered that Zuko – the one who would have done those things – was no longer hers. The thought was like cold water, sending Katara's heart into rapid fire all over again, so she decided not to think of Zuko at all, and instead tried a counting trick her Gran-Gran had taught her. Not counting up, or counting down, just counting a slow one-two-one-two as she breathed in and breathed out.  _One_  – soft and steady –  _two_  – like a heartbeat, until finally the dark forest and the chaffing bonds and the fearsome man beside her sank away, and sleep found her.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai lied there with his eyes closed and his ears open, half expecting the girl to try to slink away when she thought he had drifted off. Not that she would get far, but he had underestimated her once. He wouldn't do it again.

The girl was slender and lean, but her slight form betrayed the raw power hidden beneath. He had known that Azula, pride and prodigy of the Fire Nation, had been bested by the waterbender, but he had grudgingly assumed that his daughter's deteriorating faculties had led to her defeat. Now, he had seen for himself just what the girl was capable of and he had to admit it was impressive. She was a powerful bender, a master he'd heard some say, a force to be reckoned with.

Ozai became aware of the quiet still unbroken beside him and he cracked his eyes open to find the waterbender curled up and still, her breathing slow and even. He let his muscles relax a degree and released a measured breath as his thoughts wandered and settled on the scroll. He'd had no time to put it away before the irksome girl had escaped on the ship. He had stuffed it into his cloak without thinking a moment before jumping overboard.

Ozai's brow creased as he looked up into the dark web of branches that scraped the night sky. It was impossible, really. The scroll was ancient. It should have been destroyed. Should have turned to shreds in the ocean water, or at the very least been rendered illegible. But the paper and the ink had remained intact and, once dried, looked exactly as it had before, as though it hadn't been dragged through a raging sea. There could only be one explanation.

The scroll was enchanted. Just like that damned library. Protected by magic. Only in this case it had actually served him well. It seemed there was more to the scroll and the stones than even he had known, more than legend had told.

Ozai willed his thoughts to slow despite the churning questions in his mind. All would reveal itself in time. He breathed in deeply, let it out slowly, and finally, he felt his mind being dragged slowly down into the darkened depths, and he slept. And when he did he dreamed of a bridge.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It was a narrow, rickety thing, made of rope and vines and fracturing boards. It creaked under his weight, suspended over a void of black nothingness, as Ozai wrapped his hands around the bristly cords, splinters slicing into his palms. He called into the darkness but his voice died instantly to the endless abyss. A gust of wind sent the bridge swaying and Ozai struggled to keep his bearings in the oblivion when suddenly light appeared, so blinding at first amidst the blackness that his vision went white, pain lancing through his eyes and forehead.

Ozai blinked. As his eyes adjusted, he could see a sun blazing in the nothingness down below him, the brilliance of it burning the shadows out. Above him, opposite the sun, hung a full moon radiating a luminous white glow. And somewhere out of the infinite void there was a sound building like the soft murmur of flowing water.

No, not water, he realized as the sound grew. A whisper. A voice. Many voices building upon each other. Ozai struggled to make out the words, at once eager and afraid to lean into it. It took a moment until he was able to pick them apart and then he heard it.

_Moon above. Sun below. Moon above. Sun below. Moon above. Sun Below. Moon above…_

The words repeated over and over in that haunting mantra, the chorus of ghostly voices building, building. He clenched his eyes shut and felt a scream scraping up his throat but it caught, couldn't escape, and he tried to clasp his hands over his ears when he realized in horror that his body was frozen, paralyzed. Just when he thought his head might burst from the pain, he heard a sharp splintering crack at his feet and then he was falling through the bridge, past the blinding sun, plunging down, down into the unfathomable dark nothing until suddenly he was standing on solid ground.

And this place he knew instantly.

He knew it in the strange mixture of landscape – dry, rocky crags melting into marsh lands melting further into green hills. Knew it in the distinct sound of water burbling somewhere out of sight. He knew it in that feeling of wrongness, that he was intruding on something he wasn't meant to see. And he knew it in the wave of eerie, undulating voices on the air, like an icy finger down his spine. He steered his mind firmly away from it, fighting the urge to discern the words, and focused his eyes on the strange land, scouring it for any hint that might lead to answers.

What was this place? How did he so often end up here when he slept? And why, if it was a dream, did it seem so real?

Ozai heard a sharp gasp from somewhere behind him and he spun to find a man gaping at him. Or something that bore a vague semblance to a man, but wasn't quite. He stood on two legs and wore a long robe but his brown skin had the appearance of ancient tree bark. Long, spindly branches rose up from his head where hair might have been and when he raised an arm, a twisted, knobby finger jutted toward him from the wide sleeve of his robe.

"You… How did you get here?" His voice was grave and deep, with the faint rasp of dry leaves. He took a hard step toward him. "You don't belong here."

"Where am I?" Ozai asked quickly, cursing the desperation in his voice as he stepped back.

"You're not supposed to be here." The man's – creature's – voice was edging toward anger.

"Where is  _here_? What is this place?"

But he didn't seem inclined to answer, or he didn't comprehend Ozai's words, caught inside his hysteria like a haunted loop. "Get out. Now!" The creature's voice rose quickly and he was coming toward him faster now, each step more menacing than the last.

"I don't know how I got here!" Ozai roared, stumbling back, away. " _How_  do I get out?"

"You don't belong here! Get out! Get OUT!"

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Katara stirred. Something had dragged her out of her shallow sleep but she couldn't place it. She wanted to rub her bleary eyes but the stinging around her wrists and the aching in her shoulders reminded her that she couldn't.

Then it came again. The soft, strangled sound that had roused her from sleep. Something about it raised the hair on her neck and Katara glanced over to where Ozai lied asleep beside her and felt her face turn white. She screamed and kicked at the ground, at her sleeping bag, scuffling back away from him.

Ozai's body was levitating. In the air. Katara watched in horror, breaths sawing in and out of her chest, as his sleeping form hovered at least two inches off the ground. A faint red light was emanating from his chest, glowing like an ember in the night. She wanted to scream again but no sound would come. What was happening? This couldn't be real. She had to be dreaming.

His expression was empty, the hardness all smoothed out by sleep but the sound that came from his throat again was unsettling.

"Wake up." The words shuddered out in a breath. "Wake up," she hissed louder.

Katara blinked hard, drawing in a ragged gasp. His body had risen higher off the ground, the red glowing brighter. That sound rose up from him again and he mumbled something she couldn't quite place and Katara couldn't help it.

She kicked him. With both her bound feet.

Hard.

Ozai went hurtling to the ground and then roared to his feet and was on her so fast she didn't have time to breathe, slamming her back against the ground. His face was contorted in rage, his clawed hands digging into her shoulders, breaths cutting in and out sharply from his chest.

"Ozai, please wake up," she said, her voice trembling. "Wake up, wake up, wake up."

His features slackened a degree and he blinked, and she had the feeling that he was only now just seeing her. His eyes darted over her face and then finally he released her as he sat back with a snort. Ozai fixed her with a scowl.

"I  _am_  awake, waterbender," he growled. "Rather hard to sleep through physical assault." He must have finally registered the look on her face because his eyes flicked over her, his brows knitting slightly. "What?"

Her mouth worked, trying to find the words. "You were doing something… in your sleep…"

Ozai released a sharp breath that was almost a scoff. "I  _very_  much hope for your sake there is a better reason you attacked me just now."

"You were levitating! Your body was off the ground!"

He barked a scornful laugh. "Don't be ridiculous–"

"And your chest was glowing red!"

"That's enough, girl!" he spat, his hard eyes flashing a warning. "I doubt I need to say this, but attacking me in my sleep is in fact a  _very bad_  idea. It was a stupid little dream, girl. Nothing more."

"It wasn't a dream! Why do you think I kicked you?! I just wanted to make you to stop. Also, you were making some creepy sound like you were in pain or something and I was scared, I didn't know what to do, and you were  _freaking levitating_ –!"

"Ugh,  _enough_ , just calm down," he bit out. He pinched the bridge of his nose and released a tight sigh, mumbling a string of unsavory words under his breath. "It was a  _dream_ –"

"It wasn't–!"

"Right now, I don't care! We have a few hours till sunrise and then we move again. I don't intend to squander it. Go back to sleep. Now." Ozai returned to his sleeping back and settled back in. Katara glanced over to see Lu Da still snoring lightly. He had slept through the whole thing.  _Lucky him_ , she thought.

Katara sighed and looked away. She wasn't sure she could sleep after what had just happened.  _Had_  it just been a dream? She had just come out of sleep when it happened. What she had seen was impossible. But she had felt completely lucid. Katara stared into the smoldering coals where the flames had been hours ago. And now as the moment was cooling off, and she had time to think it through rationally, she wasn't sure anymore. She bit her lip and glanced back at Ozai.

"What were you dreaming about? Before."

His amber eyes flicked open but the rest of him stayed still. Ozai speared her with a long look and then slid his eyes closed again.

"I was dreaming about what I might do with you if you don't do as I say," he growled, his eyes still closed.

Katara huffed indignantly and scowled but couldn't quite smother the wariness that scraped through. She studied him with a sidelong glance. The edges of shock at the nightmare – whatever it had been – were softening and she released a tight sigh, resolved to put it from her mind. After a moment's hesitation, she slid back into her bag beside Ozai and tried to find sleep again.

* * *

The night sky was black. Clouds hid most of the stars, the somber half-moon weaving in and out wherever it found little breaks. A small breeze rustled the long, arching grass against Aang's legs as he sat cross-legged on a remote hill outside the city. His eyes were closed, his arms rested quietly down on his legs, and he took a deep breath, held it, released it slowly, as he had done over and over for well near an hour now. This far outside the city, the only sounds were the distant chirping of frogs and insects. He savored the quiet, the way it felt against his agitated soul, and he let it wrap around him, seep through him, willing everything else away.

If only it were that easy. A pang of guilt pinched his stomach again and he tipped his head down, his brow knitting. He ignored the urge to curl his hands and took another deep breath, relaxing every muscle again as he exhaled. What was the matter with him? Zuko was right. Why couldn't he let this go? He was holding on to this futile dream of himself and Katara together, nursing his resentment and jealousy of Zuko while it festered and ate him away inside when, ultimately, she had made a choice. It had always been hers to make. And no matter how hard it was to admit, Katara hadn't chosen him. Whether or not he could blame Zuko didn't really matter anymore, did it? That ship had sailed long ago and blaming him wouldn't change anything now. There was no good excuse for the way he had been treating his friend.

He wondered then if somewhere deep inside he had wanted to blame Zuko for Katara's disappearance and possible part in Ozai and Azula's escape. A funnel for all the bitterness he'd kept bottled up. But that wasn't fair. And in the end, he knew it would only end up destroying him as much as it would their friendship. He had to find a way to make his peace with Zuko and the way things had gone with Katara.

Aang slowed his mind, focusing on the soft  _thump-thump_  of his heartbeat as he breathed in and out slowly and finally he felt the familiar, weightless sensation of being suspended in the air a moment before the veil parted around him and then he was in the spirit world. Talking to Roku had helped him sort through difficult things many times before. Maybe he could help him now.

He was setting off to find him when there was a shudder, deep and resonant, a dark ripple in the air that raised the hair on his neck and settled like a cold fist in his gut. There was something strange now in the fabric of the veil and it took his eyes a moment to pick it out, but when he did it was impossible not to see. Thin wisps of dark tendrils, like smoke, weaved through the air, through the very fibers of the spirit world, almost imperceptible but there. As slight as the darkness appeared, there was a thickness to it, a heaviness that felt more presence than object, almost a consciousness, and it turned his stomach. There was something horribly familiar about it, this dark energy, and it was there inside him now, bobbing to the surface like shards of ice.

The air pulsed again, the dark filaments threading thicker, and the shards of ice were spreading through him, freezing the blood in his veins, suffocating him, and Aang felt like a drowning person grappling to get free.

He wrenched himself from the spirit world with a gasp, clawing his chest, and raked air into his lungs. He blinked, the calm, hushed sounds of night washing over him and he gave a final shaky exhale, scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. He had never seen or experienced anything like that in spirit world before. There was something very wrong, something wicked, a darkness that did not belong, infecting the veil. He shuddered, remembering the way the energy had clawed to life inside him. Like a latent disease, raised from the dead. Aang knew this dark energy. He didn't know how, but it was familiar. And what scared him more was that it seemed to be a part of him somehow.

Cold dread twisted his stomach. Aang stood up, threw open his glider, and soared off toward the sleeping capital.


	13. Shade on the Sun

Zuko crossed his arms, shaking his head down at the throne room's polished bamboo floor with a tight sigh. He looked back up at Aang.

"You're sure of what you saw?"

"It wasn't so much what I saw as what I  _felt_ ," Aang replied.

"Describe it to me again. You said it felt… familiar?"

"I don't know how to explain it. It was like I'd felt that energy before. But never there, in the spirit world. I can't put my finger on where. And it's not just that." Aang's brows drew tight and he folded his arms against his stomach. "It almost felt like, whatever it was, that it was also a part of  _me_ , deep down. I know that sounds crazy. It was like the dark energy was a magnet, dragging it to life inside me. It was terrifying."

Toph chewed her lip. "That doesn't sound good."

"I agree," Zuko said. "But we have more than enough to worry about here, we can't afford to go down rabbit holes right now. At least not until we have more information. Let's just keep an eye on it. Hopefully it was just some a weird fluke. But we should definitely let the fire sages know, and Aang you keep us informed of any more strange episodes. Sokka should know too, so we're all on the same page. Speaking of, has anyone seen him?"

"I haven't," Aang shrugged.

"I don't think he's come out of his room yet today," Toph chimed in.

"Hmm." Zuko frowned. "Maybe we should check on him."

"I'll go," Toph offered a bit too quickly. She cringed silently, hoping she didn't come off overly eager. If they sensed anything, they didn't let on.

Zuko nodded. "Aang and I'll go talk to the fire sages now. We'll see you guys in a bit."

Toph made her way straight to Sokka's room and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she entered and, sure enough, a Sokka-shaped lump was bundled beneath the blankets in his bed. She punched a fist into the lump and it contracted with a groan.

"All right, Snoozles, you've had your time to sulk." Toph threw open the curtains and Sokka groaned and rolled over in bed, snatching the blanket over his head as late afternoon light flooded the room. "I'm not letting you mope around in your dark little hidey hole for one more minute."

She shoved her fist into him again.

"Ow, Toph!" The shout was muffled beneath the thick covers. "Cut it out!"

"Hey, if you'd woken up properly the first time I punched you, I wouldn't have had to do it a second time."

"Gimme a break, okay? My sister's missing and the world is falling apart."

"Yeah, add to that the spirit world is going dark."

"Wait, what?" he said, peeking an eye out the blanket.

"I'll tell you later. Get up."

"Ugh. I just… need some time alone." Sokka withered back down into his bed.

Toph crossed her arms. "You've had some time alone. But ignoring this won't make it go away, Sokka. Come on. We're going out."

"Really not in the mood, Toph," he protested from inside his cocoon.

"I know. Which is why I insist. It'll make you feel better, I promise." She grabbed the blankets and yanked them down. Sokka curled into a ball and mumbled something into his pillow. Toph sat down on the edge of the bed then with a sigh.

"Look, I get it. I do. I'm worried about Katara too. But you need to get out, clear your head. Your friends need you. The city needs you. I'm taking you to Candlehearth Tavern even if I have to drag you out. We both deserve some good, old-fashioned fun, get our minds off things for a bit. First three drinks are on me."

Sokka groaned again and unfurled just enough to peek an eye out from his pillow. "Only the first three?" He sighed and rolled his eyes but finally hauled himself up to sit on the bed beside her. He leaned his arms down on his knees and stared at the floor for a long a moment.

"You're the worst," he said at last, still looking at the floor, but he smiled faintly.

"I know. You can thank me later."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Dusk had cloaked the city and the light in the tavern was low, shining up from the tables and hearths instead of down from the ceilings and walls, casting faces in odd shadow as the candles glanced off cheeks and brows. Sokka and Toph shared a small single booth against the wall, nursing their third round of drinks. They had swapped out their quiet conversation for laughter and a loose, easy banter and for just a little while all the world and its weight and their problems seemed to dissolve until it was just him and her and their private little booth against the wall.

They were playing a game she liked to call  _Who are they?_  where they would go around the room, pick a random stranger, and take turns trying to conjure the most outlandish story for what his or her life was like outside the tavern. Toph was combing the dim room again, trying to turn out a figure they hadn't used yet. It was difficult not being able to see their faces, but she could tell enough from the outline of their bodies to set them apart. Everywhere her eyes moved the room slid and staggered before catching up. The libations were taking their effect and Toph was glad. She could use a little escape right now and she had no intention of stopping just yet.

"I think we've finally run out of people," Sokka joked beside her, and she realized he was right. Toph smiled and sat back against the booth with a sigh, taking a swig of her drink.

"Wonder what the others are doing?" she said. "Sure are missing out, huh?"

"Meh. I'm kinda liking the quiet of just the two of us."

Her stomach fluttered. Toph blushed and looked away. She quickly told herself that surely he was not implying anything while still nursing the small flicker of hope. Silence was trickling into the space between them, filling the single booth where they sat a little closer than was probably necessary, their shoulders a few inches from touching. Sokka reached out to wrap a hand around his drink, bringing it to his lips, and his arm brushed faintly against hers. Heat rushed over her skin.

Her heart was thumping harder and her cloudy mind was searching desperately for something, anything to say to fill the silence that was suffocating her. "I haven't seen Suki around for a while," she heard herself say.

Toph stiffened in horror as the words went tumbling from her mouth. Of all things she could have said… Her mind was racing now and color burned hot on her cheeks. Would he be upset she brought it up? Would he know her question implied more than mere curiosity?  _Stupid!_

Instead, his shoulders fell a degree and he looked away. "Yeah, well." Sokka shrugged, but there was a heaviness to it that belied his cavalier manner. "I haven't really talked about it much. But, the truth is, with Suki taking on an active leadership role back home and me being wrapped up in things here…" His voice trailed off. "It just was wasn't working out."

"Oh… Sorry." Toph looked down at her nearly empty drink, running a finger around the brim. She  _was_  sorry. Sort of. Toph knew she should feel sorrier, for him. But she couldn't help the small bud of hope that bloomed inside her chest.

"If it's any consolation," she said, "at least you won't have to worry about our friendship making her jealous anymore."

His eyes crinkled in a warm, deep smile and he looked down at the table. He didn't look up right away when he spoke. "You gotta stop doing that."

"What?"

"Saying things that make me want to kiss you."

The air rushed from her lungs and warmth flooded her chest. Every hair on her body prickled as he brought his eyes to meet hers and her heart fluttered fitfully. The moment fanned out between them and before she could think, he was leaning in. Her lips parted and the nerves all over her body were tingling as his face came closer and she felt herself leaning in too and there was the sweetness of liquor on his breath as he angled his head and his mouth was a bare whisper away. She forgot to breathe and she couldn't think and then his smooth, warm lips were on hers in the slightest brush of a kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed as they met, tender and soft and yearning.

His lips moved against hers once, sending a wave of longing crashing through her when a loud slamming sound came from somewhere in the tavern. They jumped, their kiss breaking apart. A man had slammed his drink down on the table and stood up, his chair scraping and falling in a clatter behind him. Another man a table over surged up from where he sat and their chests puffed up as they faced each other, red and seething.

"Anyone who still blindly follows Zuko after those letters exposed him for the wretch he is should be thrown to the rebels!" the first man shouted.

"Very convenient timing, those letters. It takes half a brain to know they were planted by the rebels themselves!" the other roared back. "And it's cretins like you they were counting on to buy right into their little farce."

"Ha! We'll see who the real cretin is when the rebels finally storm the city and depose that little weakling. I'm sure you've heard the rumors. Civil war is coming. It's time to reinstate a  _real_  ruler, not some mamby pamby tender foot who wants to weaken the Fire Nation in the name of peace! Our country didn't become the greatest in the world for nothing."

"This isn't good," Sokka muttered.

Another man stood up. "I agree. I supported Zuko in the beginning. But those letters left a  _real_  sour taste in my mouth. We gave him a chance but it's clear we can't trust who he says he is."

"Zuko's time in banishment softened him," said another. "He is not suited for the throne. It takes a strong leader to drive a country to prosperity. Ozai was strong–!"

"So you would side with the rebels? See a power-hungry, warmongering Ozai back on the throne?!" yelled the second man.

"Definitely not good," Toph whispered back.

"I would see our great nation not reduced to ashes by a weak, spineless  _liar_!"

The room erupted into chaos. Tables turned and chairs skidded. Arms and fists flew, roaring men and women wrestling each other to the liquor-slicked floor. Tumblers whizzed through the air, shattered against walls.

"We should go," Sokka said under his breath.

"Right behind you."

They slinked along the wall, trying to avoid the mass of swinging arms and legs and bodies. They slipped quickly out the door and into the night, the mayhem of the tavern growing muffled behind them. They walked quickly and, as a heavy silence spread over them, Toph could feel a knot working its way into her stomach.

Sokka had kissed her. She had imagined that moment so many times. She wanted to feel elated, but she couldn't help but wonder if it had been real for him or just the alcohol taking effect. He had just broken up with Suki. Was she simply the rebound?

The thought hardened, sinking down to her chest. Hope was too fragile a thing to hold on to so she resolved to just assume the latter and forget it happened, at least until he brought it up. If he brought it up. It was easier than getting her heart broken.

"We should get back," she said at last, forcing her voice steady. "Things are getting bad. Fast. We're gonna have to be ready to defend the city if it comes to that."

"Agreed, we need to call a meeting. Formulate a plan if the worst were to happen. My dad is due to be here tomorrow to help with reinforcements. But I'm not sure any of us realized just how quickly things are crumbling in the city. People turning to the rebels now for hope?" He shook his head with a grimace.

They passed a bulletin board where Ozai's wanted poster was plastered. Someone had scribbled out most of the text except for  _Wanted_  and added  _back on the throne_ , drawing a picture of Zuko hanging from a noose off to the side.

Sokka picked up his pace and Toph followed suit and they hurried through the dark streets toward the palace.

* * *

Katara groaned awake. Her muscles cried out for release, her joints sore and throbbing from sleeping on them in an awkward position. She could hear movement and shuffling around the campsite but she kept her eyes squeezed shut against the tenderness. After a while, she managed to sit up and tried to stretch as much of the ache out as she could, but the ropes stung and chaffed her raw skin. Katara winced and blinked away the sleep, looking around.

Ozai and Lu Da were already awake, Ozai rolling his sleeping bag up and resting it against a tree, coming to sit next to Lu Da who was enjoying a strip of dried meat. He tossed one to Ozai, looking him over with a smirk and nodding.

"Nice tunic. Love the black," he said around a bite. "Really brings out the color of your soul."

Ozai glanced down at the new garment he donned last night, a hint of amusement perched on his lips, as he took a bite of the meat.

"So, I was thinking last night. How do you plan to approach this whole thing with the scroll when you get to the college? I mean, you walk up to a scholar with an artifact like that…" Lu Da huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "They're gonna take one look at that ancient roll of paper and one look at the man holding it, and it won't take long for them to sniff out that something's amiss."

"Of course," Ozai replied with cool, easy poise. "That's why I'm not going to be the one holding it. You will. I'll be waiting safely out of sight with the girl."

Lu Da barked a laugh. "Oh, no. Don't think so. I like you, Ozai. I might even consider you a friend. I've stuck my neck out for you many times and I'll do it again. But this is one thing I do not want my face connected with."

Ozai frowned and made to argue when the captain's eyes found hers and he nodded in her direction. "Look who's awake."

He followed his gaze and Katara tensed as both men's attention descended upon her. "Finally," Ozai grumbled. He walked over and sat down, shoving a strip of meat toward her. "Eat, we have to get moving."

Katara eyed him warily. She took a tiny bite, the memory of him in that disturbing state crashing back, hardening her stomach. As though he could hear her thoughts, Ozai sneered.

"Any more interesting dreams last night?"

"I told you, it  _wasn't_  a dream."

Lu Da stood and came to stand next to Ozai, arms crossed. "Hey, what'd I miss?"

"The girl attacked me in my sleep last night, frantic that I was levitating or glowing or some such nonsense."

The captain raised his good eyebrow and looked almost genuinely shocked. "She attacked you and lived to tell the tale?" he said through a gruff laugh.

Katara huffed and scowled up at the captain. "I just kicked him, okay? And that's what you took away from this? Not the creepy, unnatural thing I saw him do?"

"Sweetheart," he said, smirking down at her, "even if what you saw was real, I'd still be more impressed that you came out of it unscathed."

"Well, the waterbender's no use to me dead." Ozai nudged the dried meat in front of her face again and Katara shot him an angry look, tipping her chin away.

"I have a name, you know," she bit back. "And it's not waterbender."

Ozai leveled a long, cool look on her a moment before withdrawing the nearly untouched meat and plucking it into his mouth with a glower. He stood and nodded toward Lu Da as he picked up a sleeping bag and stuffed it into the large satchel. "Check the girl's bonds before we head out."

"It's not  _girl_ , either. It's  _Katara_."

"There's no need to repeat yourself," he said without looking up. "I ignored you just fine the first time."

Her nostrils flared and she glared at him, her hands curling to fists. At this rate, she would have permanent fingernail half-moons imprinted on her palms at the end of this. Whenever that might be.

"I don't know what your problem is," she spat, "but I'm guessing it's hard to pronounce."

Ozai stopped and glowered at her then. He closed in with two long strides and dropped down inches before her. "My problem,  _waterbender_ ," Ozai growled through his teeth, emphasizing the slur, "is that I would be at least twice as close to where I need to be right now if you hadn't sunk our ship."

"Am I supposed to feel bad about that?" she scoffed. "Maybe I wouldn't have sunk  _your_ ship if you hadn't kidnapped me in the first place."

"You have yourself to thank for that. After all, it was you who came to me, my dear," he sneered.

Her face reddened and she glanced away. Bitterness coiled like a hard fist in her stomach. When she looked back, he was fixing her with that arrogant smirk and all her caution vaporized like a drop of water on hot sand.

"When Zuko finds you," she snarled dangerously, "and he  _will_ , he's going to  _end_  you. The way Aang should have."

Something dark flashed in his eyes and a muscle clenched in his jaw. Ozai gripped her arm, jerking her into him, his face inches from hers and he simpered.

"What do you think he's going to do with you?" he said in that smooth, sultry tone. Despite the control in his voice, his eyes burned into her with angry heat. She could feel it rolling off him like a furnace. "Traitor to the crown, conspirator against the Fire Lord with the nation's top war criminal. I don't believe I have to tell you what the punishment for high treason is in the Fire Nation."

Everything about him was like coming too close to a raging fire. She forced herself to hold his gaze and it was like holding a flame. Burning, fluttering, painful.

"Do not forget your place, girl," he growled. "Let me remind you to choose your words and tone  _very_  carefully, lest I be compelled to do something you will regret." Ozai grasped her forcefully and lifted her off the ground and over his shoulder in a single motion, the air rushing from her lungs on impact. Fear twisted in her chest and she tried to shove it down. That was what he wanted, to make her fear him. And she did, of course. But she wouldn't show it, wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Ozai stooped down and slung the small satchel over his other shoulder, Lu Da hoisted the larger one onto his back alongside his crossbow, and they set off.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai stalked through the forest in large strides, determined to make up for lost time. And between carrying the girl and luggage on his back, he could feel the weight slowing him down, even if just a degree, and he wouldn't settle for that if he could help it. By now, Zuko likely had every nation on high alert. They could not make it to the college quickly enough. And scaling the White Spire, the tallest peak in the Earth Kingdom, named for its snowy white crest, and the mountain on which the College of the Ancients was perched, would be a feat in itself.

Time was of the essence if he hoped to succeed and every step felt like a snail's pace. They had to exercise caution. The shortest and most direct way to the mountain would have been to cut through the towns, but that would invite trouble. So he and Lu Da had scouted a course on the map that wound through a gorge, circumventing populated areas and spitting them out near base of the White Spire. If they made good time, they could reach the gorge by the next day or two.

Ozai could not begin to guess at the location of the first portal or the other two stones until he had the scroll translated. At least he hoped it would offer some insight. He cursed the scroll and its cryptic verse, and he cursed the maddening waterbender for sinking the ship and adding miles to what was already a long journey.

Though the one thing, he reminded himself, that he could thank the stars for was that he  _did_  have her, irksome as she was. Without the girl, the scroll, the stones, all of it would be worthless. Only a bender of the stones' corresponding element could activate the relics and thereby open the portals. That meant both an earthbender and an airbender together would be needed to activate the Earthstone and Airstone for the first portal to open; a firebender and a waterbender for the Moonstone and Sunstone, the second portal.

There was, however, one other way to go about it. It had been difficult evidence to come by, but years of digging in the fire sages' ancient manuscripts during his reign as Fire Lord had rewarded him. There was a contingency plan set in place that could bypass this necessity in case of emergency. A dark sacrament, an ancient ritual that could only be performed by a waterbender. A bloodbender. Forcing the girl to cooperate when the time came could prove problematic, but by that time he expected much of her spark would be stamped out, her spirits worn down, and if he had to break her a thousand times, in a thousand different ways he would see this through.

They walked for hours until weariness and hunger forced them to stop for a break. Ozai dropped the waterbender to the ground, perhaps more harshly than he should have, ignoring her complaints, and stalked a short distance away, rummaging through the small bag for food. Beside him, the large satchel hit the ground with a dull thud and Lu Da leaned his crossbow gently against a tree. Ozai could see him standing there in the corner of his vision, studying him, an arm crossed along his chest, the other hand stroking his chin.

Ozai spared the captain a quick glance. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing. It's just…" Lu Da crossed both burly, tattooed arms and shrugged. He cocked his head, his gaze skimming the air as he searched for words. "Have you considered perhaps a slightly, I don't know, lighter approach with the girl?"

"Why would I do that?" Ozai grumbled, retrieving a handful of tree nuts and dried berries.

"Oh, you wouldn't, of course," Lu Da laughed, uncrossing him arms. "Normally. But, hear me out. Hungry dogs are never loyal, right? Fight the girl and all she'll do is fight you back. Words, actions, doesn't matter, hostility all yields the same. But," he said, holding up a finger for emphasis, "soften your approach and you soften the girl in return, I'd bet the good side of my face on it. She'll fight you less, lot less trouble for you."

Ozai's gaze slid to the soft forest floor and he gave a long blink as he considered the man's words. It was almost too obvious that he chided himself for not thinking of it first, blinded by frustration and haste. Ozai prided himself a master of the human psyche. Where some might be skilled in the art of pottery or fencing, Ozai was skilled in the art of manipulation, the intricacies of the human mind. The girl was in a delicate state, rejected by her lover, all her efforts turned to dust and her hopes sapped. Perhaps he could curb his behavior, and thus the girl's, to his advantage. If he started now, there was good chance all would go smoother at the portals. And perhaps if she weren't fighting him every step of the way, they would make better time in getting there.

Ozai retrieved a baked sweet roll along with the nuts and dried berries before handing Lu Da the satchel of food and walking over to where the waterbender was slumped against a tree. She drew back slightly as he came to sit next to her and slid him a guarded look.

He tossed the handful of nuts and berries into his mouth and broke off a piece of the sweet roll, holding it out to her. She raised her chin, fierce sapphire eyes glaring back at him.

"What do you need me for?" she said in a low voice. "And what is that scroll? The one I saw hanging on the tree branch."

He studied her for a moment with a subtle smirk. "I'm afraid you won't like the answer."

"I figured that much. But what difference does it make if I don't have a choice either way? I'm tied up, it's not like I can escape now. Just tell me."

"If it makes no difference, why does it matter to you?"

"Because I think I deserve to know what I'm going to be used for."

He tipped his head and gave a wry smile. "Very well. The scroll is an ancient artifact. After we get it translated, it will hopefully give me much needed information."

The girl fixed him with a glare. "Are you being annoyingly vague on purpose or–?"

"As for you, I simply need a bloodbender."

She blinked, drawing back, her eyes narrowing. "Why?"

A corner of his mouth quirked up and her flinty blue eyes cut over his face, but he said nothing. Knowledge was a weapon, and he had no intention of arming her, not yet. Ozai expected her to press the issue, but instead she let out a hard breath, rolling her eyes as she turned away and settled back against the tree, scowling down at the ground.

"Don't take it personally. Think of it as drawing out the suspense. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Her mouth twisted as she looked back at him, her icy stare piercing into him. "Whatever it is, you'll never get away with it. Every nation in the world is going to be hunting you down like a mangy dog."

Ozai's expression hardened but a smile spread across his face. "Poor little naïve girl. Never underestimate a man with nothing to lose."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A faint noise slipped under the trill of birds in the trees, so subtle Katara almost thought she'd imagined it but one quick look at Ozai told her she hadn't. Beside her, his body tensed, his brows knitting together as his eyes darted to the captain. Katara listened hard and it came again and she realized with a rush of hope that it was a voice. No, several voices. Ozai stood quickly and some unspoken thing must have passed between him and Lu Da because in one swift moment they had the satchels and crossbow in hand, Ozai seizing her quickly and dragging her into a thicket a few feet away.

Ozai crouched down next to where she lied on the ground, a hand pressed firmly over her mouth. The soft, smooth skin of his hands seemed so misplaced on such a callous man. "Not so much as a  _whisper_ ," he hissed above her ear. The voices were dangerously close now and a flash of movement cut through the brambles as they came into sight. Two men and a woman, and it was clear to see from their uniforms that they were Earth Kingdom guards. Beside her, Katara saw Lu Da place a quiet hand on his crossbow. The guards marched past, conversing lightly, oblivious to the threat that lurked just out of sight, and her heart sank as she watched them disappear, swallowed up by the forest.

They waited in the thicket until any trace of their voices were long out of earshot and finally Ozai released his hand from her mouth. He stepped out of their hideout, dragging her out behind him and exchanged a dour look with Lu Da.

"Guards on patrol this far from a village?" His expression hardened, his lips pressed into a line.

"They're already on the alert," Lu Da nodded.

Ozai ran his fingers along his chin where it met his slender beard and frowned, his eyes fixed down at the ground. At last he spoke. "The longer it takes us to get to the college, the greater risk we have of getting caught. I think the best course of action may be to take the shortest route, cut straight through the towns, shave days off our journey."

"If we cut through towns, the risk of us getting caught will be greater."

"If we do it right and do it quickly, I think we'd have a better chance of making it than if we take our time and word spreads. More eyes on the lookout means more trouble. The sooner we get the scroll translated, the closer we are to the goal."

Lu Da shook his head and let out a breath. "Well… If you think that's the best course of action, then that's what we'll do. Only problem is, pretty sure stalking through a town with a bound-up girl draped over your shoulder might draw a few eyes. So…" He gestured toward Katara. "What do we do with her?

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Katara walked, nestled closely between Ozai and Lu Da. Ozai had thrown the captain's cloak over her shoulders, concealing her tied hands at her back, one muscular arm wrapped firmly around her as they made their way to the town's outer edge and slowed to a stop.

The place was practically bursting at the seams with people. Lively music buzzed up from the streets, colorful dancers and exotic performers flitting through the crowds. Rows and rows of booths and stalls dotted the town with vendors all shouting and waving their wares. Katara's eyes caught on a tall wooden billboard in the center of the square. On it hung a large, brightly colored banner that read  _Illumination Festival_. And pinned just beneath it, on a slightly smaller but still very sizeable poster, was Ozai's face.

 _WANTED: former Fire Lord Ozai, dangerous fugitive. Do not engage, report any sightings to authorities immediately_. And below that,  _A substantial reward will be given for any information leading to his arrest._

"Well, shit," muttered Lu Da. "Word does spread fast."

Ozai grimaced and tugged the hood of his cloak farther over his face. "My son may be many pitiful things, but he is nothing if not tenacious." Ozai's eyes scanned over the town. Katara watched them dart across the crowds until finally something in his expression slackened. "Though perhaps our luck has finally turned. With crowds like this, we should be able to slip through with ease."

"Except that it appears no one else here is crazy enough to wear cloaks in this summer heat," Lu Da pointed out.

Ozai's mouth tipped downward. A drip of sweat slicked down his neck. The day's temperature was rising uncomfortably and their cloaks could draw attention. But it was a better option than walking about without cover.

"That may be true. But exude enough confidence and you can get away with almost anything. Walk with sure steps, act like you belong, and no one will suspect a thing."

"Not speaking from experience, I'm sure," the captain smirked.

The corners of Ozai's eyes creased and then he steered Katara forward, his powerful arm around her frame, pressing her against his side, as they weaved through the throngs of sweaty bodies toward the heart of the town.

A band of musicians stood on a platform playing various stringed and horned instruments, their loud, upbeat song permeating the air. A group of children darted past, their cheerful laughter cutting briefly above the cacophony of the festival. The air here was thick with delicious smells. Savory foods, sweet-smelling potpourri and soaps, earthy spices, the bright tang of fresh herbs.

"Mmm, I've got a craving for some spit-roasted duck-piglet with plum sauce," Lu Da mused. "You think they have that here?" A street dancer in face paint and a bright yellow jumpsuit cartwheeled toward them and Katara flinched back as the dancer jumped up and into her face, grinning madly before cartwheeling off again.

"My dear mother, rest her soul," he went on as they walked, "used to make the most delicious roasted duck-piglet with plum sauce. Took the recipe all the way to her grave. My sister tried one last time to get it out of her before she croaked." He shook his head with a small laugh. "That was the final nail in mother's coffin. She shouted and screamed and cursed at my sister until she couldn't breathe and her heart finally imploded in her chest."

Katara grimaced and glanced at Ozai. He seemed mildly uninterested, as though he had heard the story before. The way the captain talked about it, he could just as well have been talking about the weather or what kind of tea he liked to drink.

"That's… sad?" she wavered, unsure if he expected her to say anything or what the appropriate response might be.

Lu Da simply shrugged. "The woman died doing what she loved. Swearing profusely."

Ozai stopped, his eyes scanning the bustling town square. "Hmm. It might be worthwhile to have a look around, stock up on food and essentials."

"Wait. I thought the caveat of cutting through the towns was that we had to do it quickly to go unnoticed," Lu Da questioned.

"That still stands, but we can use the festival to our advantage. Amidst the hordes of people, we'll be practically invisible. Now's the time to get anything we might need in the event we're unable to do so later."

"All right. Well, how about for starters we scope out a real meal. I'm starving."

Katara felt a hollow rumbling in her own stomach and gave quiet thanks for Lu Da in that moment. Ozai nodded and guided her under his unyielding hold toward the far right side of the square where savory-smelling steam was billowing above the crowds. Grilled meats, yeasty breads, sweet rice rolls, spices, herbs, and more filled the air and Katara's mouth flooded with moisture. They stopped a safe distance back from the vast array of food vendors' booths, shielded by the crowd, as they surveyed the options.

A shadow moved into her peripheral vision and Katara turned to find a young, dark-haired man in exotic clothes holding out a single red rose. "A flower in exchange for a dance with the beautiful lady?"

Ozai tightened his grasp just enough for her notice. "I'm afraid the  _lady_  is unavailable at the moment."

The man's smile melted off his face as he straightened, stepping back with a wary look. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't realize she was spoken for."

Katara's hair stood on end and she felt her face go red hot. She opened her mouth to scream out that she most certainly was not spoken for, but Ozai's death grip cut sharply into her arm. The young man did not seem terribly put out and sauntered away, holding the rose out to another girl who blushed and gave a shy smile before accepting it and disappearing with him into the crowd.

"Mmm, how about some basil lime boar-gator? Or the barbecued yak-rabbit?" Lu Da's voice dragged her attention back. Suddenly, she wasn't quite so hungry. "And maybe some of those rice rolls and breads for the journey?"

"Fine. And whatever you decide for the meal, order three. I'll wait back here with the girl."

 _The girl_. Katara's lip curled and she glared down at the ground. It was no use reminding him once again that she had a name. She was just a meaningless pawn to him.

The captain slipped through the crowd and toward one of the booths and Katara looked around. A scruffy stray dog wandered through the masses, begging for morsels when a gaunt, leathery woman kicked the animal in the ribs, hard. Katara gasped, and the woman cackled as the dog yelped and tucked its tail, scampering away.

Her stomach churned and Katara was imagining how much she would enjoy doing the same to her when a braying voice penetrated through the multitudes. A thin, gangly man in what appeared to be some sort of religious garb was walking through the town, shouting something fanatical about darkness and the end times. It was difficult to make full sense of what he was saying amidst the murmuring droves until he was passing right by them.

"…The real monsters are  _not_  the ones that surround us in the dark but walk  _amongst_  us in the light!..."

His eyes made contact with Katara and seemed to hold a beat too long before darting away as he continued bellowing through the crowd. The irony. She couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or scream. If only he knew.

Lu Da returned with three portions of steaming, succulent meat wrapped in thick paper for easy eating. Well, easy if you had the use of your hands. Katara glowered at Ozai as the captain handed him two of the three portions.

"You think  _this_  won't draw attention?" she said bitterly. "Cause, you know, a grown man feeding food to a young woman is perfectly normal."

Ozai narrowed his eyes, searing her with a look. "If you're hungry you can eat, but it  _will_  be from my hand. Most of these imbeciles are either drowning in libations or too busy with their pleasantries to take notice. And don't make me remind you to watch your tone with me, peasant."

He held out the rolled-up meat and her brows drew low, but she wasn't about to snub her nose at the first satisfying meal she'd had in days. So she took a bite, willing the daggers in her glare to slice him through, as they ate and walked slowly, savoring the delicious food.

They snaked their way toward the other side of the town, where a majestic, tiered fountain towered, its water glimmering in the sunlight.

"They should replace the water in that fountain with saké," Lu Da said between bites. "Now there's an idea."

Skulking around the fountain's edge was the same stray dog Katara had seen before. He was sniffing the ground for scraps, shrinking sharply away from feet that passed by too closely. Beside her, Katara saw Lu Da slow and then stop as he crouched down and extended his hand palm up toward the animal. The dog recoiled at first but, when the captain made no sudden move, it began to wag is drooping tail cautiously and finally nudged its grungy muzzle against his hand.

The brawny man simpered and stroked its head as the dog visibly relaxed at his touch and stuck its tongue out in a slobbery smile. "Hey there, boy. You're hungry, aren't you?" Lu Da cooed, his thick, ringed fingers scratching under the animal's chin. Katara had to choke back a laugh. Such a formidable man fawning over a sweet, scraggly dog.

Ozai kept walking and grumbled in a low tone over his shoulder. "Don't make a scene. It's just an animal."

Lu Da scoffed. "I like animals more than most people." He took one final bite of his meal and held out the last little chunk in his hand. "Here you go, boy. Enjoy it."

Warmth blossomed in Katara's chest at the small act of compassion, the tender way he regarded the neglected creature. The dog grabbed the food gently, as though it understood the sacrifice and Lu Da ruffled the hair on its head once more as he stood and fell into step beside them.

* * *

The Great Gates of Azulon yawned open. Zuko stood at the harbor, Aang, Toph, and Sokka at his side, watching as a fleet of water tribe ships sailed through. Ten cutter sailing ships in total. They steered into the harbor and docked along the vast pier, rows and rows of powerfully built, painted warriors coming to line the docks behind them. Zuko nodded at the passing warriors and glanced to Sokka scanning the faces as they stalked past. Hakoda was slated to be among them. Zuko turned his attention back to the ships again and at last, stepping off the gangway of the last vessel, he recognized the chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

"Dad!" Sokka beamed, running to his father as he stepped onto the docks. Hakoda grinned and wrapped him in a strong hug.

"Sokka. It's so good to see you." Sokka led him back to where the rest of them waited. The light fell from the chief's face as he scanned the row of troubled faces wearing a smile. "Somehow I'd hoped it was all just a bad dream and she'd be waiting right here beside you."

His eyes found Zuko's and he felt himself visibly tense under the weight. "Fire Lord." Hakoda gave a slight bow, spearing him with a cool, penetrating gaze. "A word in private if you will?"

Zuko swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the questioning glances from his friends, and followed Hakoda a short distance away. They stood with closed postures, staring out at the restless sea, tension squeezing Zuko's stomach, and neither of them spoke for an excruciating moment.

"I don't want to insult you by giving you a lecture–" Hakoda began at last.

"But I guess you're about to," Zuko cut in bleakly.

The older man's mouth pressed into a line. "Fire Lord or not, you are still very young, Zuko, and I am not ignorant of the relationship you've had with my daughter. I understand the way it ended may have led her to some very unfortunate decisions and her actions, if confirmed, disturb me greatly." He turned his entire body toward him then. "But what disturbs me only a fraction less is the way you strung Katara along even while you were engaged to another woman, even when you  _knew_  it would amount to nothing."

"I  _tried_  to break it off more times than I can  _count_ ," Zuko rasped, his eyes squeezing shut with a shake of his head. "But every time, without fail, Katara would come to me again and you have no idea how hard that was, how it nearly destroyed me to push her away. I loved her–"

"The Fire Nation has perverse ways of showing love then."

Zuko opened his mouth to argue but Hakoda cut him off. "I don't really want to get into this with you. It isn't going to bring Katara back. But I want you to know that I can't help but blame you in part for her disappearance. You just better hope that nothing happens to her before she's found safely, if you understand what I mean."

Zuko swallowed again and slid his gaze away, drawing his elbows into his sides. The choppy waves crashed against the legs of the dock and a spray of mist glittered in the air. A gull squawked overhead. The world murmured around them, unaware of the tension curdling like sour milk in the air.

"You've had a rough start to your rule. I sympathize with you. The world is in desperate need of the peace you seek to restore and I am here to help see that it happens. I'm on your side." Hakoda gave a deep sigh and bowed his head, finally placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "But I'm also a father missing his baby girl. And there is nothing I won't do to see that she's found safely. Now, I've said what I needed to. I won't say any more about it."

Hakoda turned then and walked back to where the others were still standing, watching them with nervous gazes. Zuko tried to loosen the knots from his stomach as he followed.

"What was that about?" Aang whispered when he reached the group.

Zuko just slid him a look and shook his head. Aang raised a brow but didn't press it.

"If the Concord Assembly believes Ozai is in the Earth Kingdom now," Zuko overheard Hakoda saying, "what is being done to hunt him down?"

"I've alerted the Earth King and he's put the entire nation on watch," Zuko explained. "I've been told they've employed extra guards and dispatched them throughout the kingdom."

Hakoda sighed and shook his head. "It just… doesn't feel like enough."

"What if we launched some airships?" Sokka suggested. "The Earth Kingdom is massive. We could cover a ton of ground at once and it might offer a vantage point you don't get on the ground."

"Hmmm." Aang chewed his lip. "I'm not so sure the Earth Kingdom would take too kindly to Fire Nation airships flying over their country so soon after the war's ended. It might cause more fear and panic."

"Aang's right," Hakoda nodded. "That wouldn't be wise, unless we got permission from the Earth King first, and even then, he'd have to see that every citizen in the kingdom was made aware of the purpose of the airships. Not easy."

"I say we let the Concord Assembly do their job, and we do ours by focusing on trying to keep the nation from going up in flames," Toph said, crossing her arms. "They've proven themselves capable so far. And after what Sokka and I witnessed at Candlehearth, I'd say we have our work cut out for us."

The group exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.

"Then by your lead, Zuko." Hakoda gave a small bow. "Let's shut these rebels down."

* * *

After the bustling festival town, Katara, Ozai, and Lu Da had passed through a few small villages before finding themselves in the cover of forest again by nightfall. Morning had come as it always did – with her body aching and sore. Katara had hoped that Ozai would leave her ankles unbound overnight, but it had been the first thing he had seen to when they'd made camp. As the first pale streaks of dawn had touched the sky, after they'd eaten and packed up, Ozai had knelt before her with a long, threatening look and untied her ankles again, warning her not try anything as they'd set out.

Now, Ozai led Katara under his arm through a stretch of thinning forest, rays of sunlight slicing through the snare of branches above. The hint of a beaten path was beginning to emerge from the sloping forest floor. As they neared the top of an incline, Katara could just see the tip of a soaring village gate cresting the horizon. The doors were held open by the town sentry. In its mouth stewed a swarm of Earth Kingdom guards astride ostrich-horses. A few of their animals stomped and brayed, mirroring the agitation in the guards' expressions. They flicked the reins and an instant later the ostrich-horses bore the guards in their direction at full tilt, kicking up dirt behind them.

Ozai cursed audibly and darted back, yanking Katara with him as he raced back into the scant line of trees and ducked behind a wide oak, Lu Da flattening himself against another tree nearby. Ozai clutched her into him tightly, one strong arm wrapped around her middle, the other locking her head firmly against his chest. Equal measures of hope and dismay flickered in her chest. Help was so close. All she'd have to do was scream…

As though he heard the thought, Ozai tightened his grip. The coarse fabric of his cloak pressed against her cheek and she could hear the faint, brisk  _thump-thump_  of his heart, feel the hard wall of muscle in his chest. She felt him lean down and his lips grazed her ear as he spoke in a barely audible whisper.

"Not  _one_  sound."

His warm breath skimmed over her ear and down her neck and made her shiver. Ozai smelled like burning wood and spice and heat, the kind of penetrating heat that invades your lungs when you breathe. There was an odd, faint fluttering in her belly as warmth crept over her face and Katara stiffened in horror, her toes curling as she stamped it out and tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat.

Hooves rumbled against the ground and a moment later the horde of guards thundered past, following the waning path into the forest where they had been just moments before. Her heart tightened and sank as she watched them go, the urge to scream out for help lodged in her throat as the last of the rumbling hooves faded away.

They waited there in hiding until the forest's hushed murmurs had long since settled around them again. A fly whined in her ear, branches creaked, a breeze rustled the leaves and his scent found it way to her again and she cringed as heat rushed anew over her skin. Ozai's heartbeat filled her head again with its faint rhythm, steadying now as the threat disappeared, and as his vice grip around her finally slackened, she quickly tipped her head down, praying he wouldn't notice the color on her cheeks. What was wrong with her?!

Ozai had nearly released her when he suddenly stopped short. She tensed, keeping her face firmly toward the ground, not daring to glance up at him, and the whole moment hardened, like the entire forest was holding its breath. She prayed harder, pleading with the spirits, but as though the universe was mocking her prayers, Ozai's silky voice crooned out, deep and smooth.

"My, my. You're blushing."

Her entire body bristled. "I'm not," she snapped, cutting him a sharp, sideward glance.

"I see. Perhaps I'm only imagining that deep shade of red on your cheeks then." Her nostrils flared but before she could think of a retort, he continued with a deep smirk. "Do I remind you of him?"

Katara blinked rapidly, her eyes going wide as the innuendo dawned on her. Zuko. Her toes curled again and revulsion gripped her stomach. Zuko had thankfully turned out nothing like his horrible father. But the amber eyes that burned into her now, the chiseled jaw, the high cheekbones all held an uncomfortable familiarity.

"No," she said a low, scathing tone, flashing a look that she hoped was strong enough to hide the lie.

A smirk spread across his face that told her it wasn't and her gut churned. To her intense relief, Lu Da appeared then at his side and the uncomfortable conversation evaporated, though her face still burned. If the captain had picked up on any part of it, he graciously kept it to himself.

"Hate to say it, but plan B may be shaping up to be a  _little_  riskier than we thought. Still think taking the shorter route is worth it?"

The smirk on Ozai's face dissolved into a grim expression. His mouth pressed into a hard line. "No," he said finally.

"What are you thinking then? Back to plan A, travel through the gorge? Or do you have a plan C in mind?"

"We need to get the scroll to the college as quickly as possible. Even once we manage that, there's no telling how long it will take to get it translated. It has to be done delicately so as not to draw suspicion." Ozai gave a hard sigh, his eyes fixed downward for a long moment before meeting the captain's again. "Regrettably, I think we should split up. You take the smaller satchel with the scroll and the stones, take the shortcut as planned through the towns and up the White Spire to the college. The girl and I will take a longer, roundabout route and meet you in the town of Guo Yang on the eastern foot of the mountain once you've seen to it."

"You want me to take the stones too? That's a whole lot of trust coming from you. You sure?"

"Worst case if I have a run-in with the guards, they'll be safe with you. It's not an ideal situation, any of it. But it's the best we have right now."

Lu Da shook his head and blew out his cheeks. "I really don't like this, taking your damn scroll up to the scholars. You should have been up front with me–"

"I know. I couldn't risk you saying no."

The captain scoffed and crossed his arms, looking away briefly. "You owe me big time for this, you know that? Don't think I'll let you off."

"Noted," Ozai said with a small smile. Then after a moment, more quietly, "Thank you."

Ozai passed the smaller satchel to Lu Da. "Do not lose these."

"I'll guard them with my life," he said with a crooked grin, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

The two men considered each other for a stretch until finally they each clasped a hand around the other's arm in unison, Ozai's mouth pressing into a solemn line and Lu Da giving a grave smile.

"See you on the other side," he said as he turned and walked off toward the town.

Katara watched the captain shrink and finally disappear through the town's gates. There was an odd sinking feeling in her gut as he faded from view. She would never have thought she'd feel anything less than relief to see Lu Da go. But his absence settled around her now like a hollow weight. She had grown accustomed to the stocky, formidable man. If she were honest, she might even say a part of her had grown to like him, a little. Now she was quickly realizing that his leaving meant she would be alone with Ozai, at least for the foreseeable future. That third presence, however daunting, had made her interactions with Ozai seem a little less frightening. Now that buffer was gone.

A strong hand wrapped around her upper arm. "Let's go." Ozai started guiding her back through the forest, away from the town. She blinked as her own two feet moved along the ground. He was letting her walk?

"Aren't you going to tie my ankles?" she said in a sour voice.

"Do you want me to?" he returned coolly with a glance over his shoulder. "Perhaps you enjoyed my carrying you more than you'd like to admit."

Her mouth worked and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. "No! I just…"

"Then I'd advise you to think before you speak. I know it must be a novel concept for those in the Water Tribes." Katara's lip curled as she glared at him. "We'll make better time if you walk.  _However_ –" he stopped then, his hand clutching tighter around her arm, and turned fully to face her – "make one wrong move, so much as one step in the wrong direction, and I just might break those pretty little legs right off. Do you understand?"

He towered over her, stood at least a head taller than her. He tipped his chin and really glowered at her. Katara swallowed and scowled up at him. "Yes," the scratching half-whisper grated out.

"Good girl." A cold smile split his face and her brows drew low as, grudgingly, she let him lead her through the thickening cover of trees.


	14. A Tangled Mess of Grey

**A/N: So, I chopped off half the tip of my left index finger lengthwise recently. Yep, that really happened. Sliced it clean off, a piece of my finger right there on the cutting board while making sweet potato fries. That was a fun little field trip to the ER. They were damn good fries though. That's all I have to say about this update. Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

Katara's hair clung to her neck, stuck to her temples and forehead. Her skin was slick with sweat, gluing her clothes to her body. Over the last couple of days, since Lu Da had split off, the heat wave had spiked mercilessly and even in the dappled shade of the forest it still hung heavy in the air. Ozai had removed both of their cloaks and folded them into the large satchel. It had helped, a little. She didn't think summers got this bad in the Earth Kingdom. Fire Nation summers were sweltering enough, accustomed as she was to arctic temperatures. This was almost worse.

Through the trees, Katara could just make out the hard glitter of water. Her mouth went dry and suddenly she felt the heat like a heavy weight on her skin.

"Please, can we stop? It's so hot." She looked up at Ozai and even though he said nothing right away, she could see the discomfort on his face too, the sweat slicking down his temple.

"Just long enough to cool down and replenish our water supply," he said, leading her through the trees until they reached the edge of a shallow bank. A large tree had fractured at the base and now rested on its side, its branches swaying in the current.

Katara dropped to the cool earth, moist from the spray of the river, as Ozai retrieved the canteen and took a long swig and then bent down and held it out to her. She drank until the last drop was gone and then he stood and stepped away. Katara was watching the river. The small fish darting between algae-stained rocks, floating petals and leaves, the gentle, hypnotic trickle of water. Mindlessly, for no reason at all, her eyes skated to Ozai.

He was dragging his sweat-damp tunic over his head, letting it fall to a heap on the ground. His bare chest was heavy with muscle and it sent a dart of unease through her. And something else…

She felt her face go hot as he stooped down to grab the canteen, striding down the bank to the water's edge. Her eyes tracked over his back as he held the canteen in the water and Katara could see several small, silvery lines marking his skin. Scars, she realized. More than she could count. There was a precision to them, an exactness that seemed odd, almost intentional. She was so preoccupied with it that she didn't notice right away when he looked over his shoulder.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Cool water rushed over the hot skin of his hands, burbled into the canteen. He cupped the water in his other hand and splashed it over his face, the back of his neck. As it ran down his shoulders and chest, Ozai became aware of the distinct pressure of eyes on him. He stole a glance at the waterbender and caught her staring at his bare back. Suddenly, the girl's face reddened and pinched in awkwardness and she looked quickly away. He stood with a smirk and walked back up the bank.

"If you're going to be shy or act on pretense, at least try to look like you aren't staring," he crooned, corking the canteen. Ozai grinned as the girl winced, her mouth widening. "Otherwise, if you want to look–"

"I wasn't–! I just…" He cocked a brow. Her color deepened, shoulders rounding in slightly. "I noticed your scars…"

It seemed that wasn't all she noticed, but he spared her the discomfort of saying so, for now at least, as he smirked. She was obviously mortified by some degree of attraction to him, and the fact that he could see it. It was so easy to make her uncomfortable, to make her squirm. He enjoyed the game. A fun little pastime on an otherwise maddening journey.

The girl's edges softened as her voice drew lower. "How did you get them? Your scars, I mean. There's so many."

Ozai reached the top of the bank and stopped then, looked at her. He frowned, taking a strip of cloth from the satchel and wetting it with the canteen. He dropped down before her, dabbing the cool rag over her forehead and temples. Her wound was healing nicely. Despite the cool of the water her cheeks burned red and she avoided his eyes. He tried not to smile.

"It's a long story," he said at length, expecting her to drop it.

Instead, the girl fixed him with a glare and made a point of shrugging her bound arms. "I have time," she said, looking emphatically around the clearing.

He stood and wrung out the cloth as he held her gaze a moment, tossing the damp rag onto the satchel. The barest hint of amusement perched on his lips, a slight crease of his eyes. Ozai bent and picked up a long stick, turning it between his fingers as he sat down on the body of the fallen tree. After a moment, he gave a single, slight nod.

"If you insist." Ozai leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and dug the stick into the spongy forest floor, twisted it. Ozai stared at the rotten leaves and detritus as the girl waited in silence. He knew what he would tell her. That he had gained the scars studying the art of twin broadswords while he was prince of the Fire Nation. It was the lie he'd always told everyone, even his older brother. Everyone, that is, except Ursa. He had made the mistake of telling the truth once. He wouldn't do it again.

But as he sat there, the practiced lines perched on his tongue, he heard the first treacherous grain of truth scrape up his throat.

"My father," the defiant words grated out and his jaw clenched. Irritated as he was by the admission, he was perhaps more surprised at the strange leaning he felt to continue. He breathed in slowly, considering it.

Ozai had grown accustomed to concealing the truth, distorting it. He wore his lies like armor, like a cruel second skin. But now, as the truth retched up like bile, as he watched the girl's expression waver between surprise and reluctant sympathy, an idea flickered through his mind. The first spark of a thought, bright but brittle. He nursed its fragile heat as it kindled. Now, he wielded the truth like a weapon. Exploiting her compassion was one quick way to tame her, and by far the easiest. He gave a faint, spiteful smile as he indulged her further.

"Most children fear the same things," he went on at last. "The monsters that lurk under their beds, in dark corners, the imagined fangs and claws waiting to devour an exposed limb while sleeping. We tell children that, of course, there's no such thing as monsters, that what doesn't exist can't hurt you." He breathed out a grim half-laugh. "But what if the monsters you fear are not the ones that lurk in the shadows but exist beside you in the light? The ones wearing the faces of those you should trust, the ones meant to protect you?"

He could feel her eyes on him, but he kept his gaze on the river. His lips curled in a mirthless smile. "No, you see, monsters are indeed real. And they look like people. During the War under his reign, my father liked to use me as his own personal effigy. Any time the Fire Nation's efforts were thwarted, when there were losses or setbacks, he would set a smoldering red-hot metal rod to my skin. He couldn't bring himself to use his bending, to sully his hands with me. Thus, the scars."

The waterbender's brows pinched together. She blinked and looked down at the ground. After a moment, she released a long breath. "That's sad and all." Her voice was small and soft but edging quickly. "But you mean to tell me that after all that, you then turned around and perpetuated the toxic cycle by burning your own son's face off?" She scoffed and narrowed her icy eyes at him. "Did you enjoy it, becoming the monster your father had been to you? Did you never consider breaking the cycle, even just to spite him?"

Ozai let out a soft, scornful laugh. "Not for lack of trying, my dear, but you wouldn't believe that, I'm sure. I was firm in my resolve, once, not to be the man Azulon was, and during Zuko's early years I was largely successful. Zuko himself would attest to this. Unfortunately, for better or worse, all men are doomed to become their fathers."

"Not true. No one is  _doomed_  to anything. There is always a choice. And Zuko made a different one. He's nothing like  _you_."

"Yes, Zuko is simply the perfect image of upstanding character. I'm rather surprised you still defend him after the way he treated you. Strung you along like a piece of meat on a string." He scoffed. "Foolish girl, still clinging to your fragmented vision of a happy ending. I would be very distrusting of your judgment if you sincerely believe my son to be a man of honor."

Fierce water-blue eyes glared up at him. He knew pain too well to be fooled by the defiant look, the set jaw around which chocolate hair curled and stuck in the heat. Her cold eyes slid to the ground and held there.

"The hard truth, girl, is the world is a tangled mess of grey, despite what pretty little lies you've been told. It cannot be split into black and white. Entirely good men do not exist, just as entirely evil men do not."

She blinked and her gaze slid along the ground but she didn't look up at him.

"As far as Zuko is concerned," he went on, "I admit that perhaps Iroh was more of a father to my son in his formative years. Zuko may have taken the high road, swooped in to overthrow his  _evil_  tyrant father and become the world's hero. But he's barely grazed the tip of life's proverbial iceberg. The pressures of ruling a nation in times of prosperity, much less teetering at the edge of war, would bring any man to his knees, reduce even the strongest mind to madness." The girl's eyes flicked to him as he stood and walked over to the satchel. "The night is young, as they say. Only time will tell."

He dug out the map, gave it a quick check before they headed out again. His eyes skimmed over the broad northcentral area of the forest simply marked  _The Bone Road_ , not a road so much as a region. Named for the large rock formation that resembled a dragon's spine rising out of the forest floor. Ozai had heard of it, when he was Fire Prince. It was dubbed a road back when it was a popular trade route before the war, and the name had stuck. Now, it appeared the Bone Road would be a more direct route to Guo Yang than rounding all the way through the gorge. If all went well, they could be passing through in a week, ten days, give or take. Most of the area seemed to sit far enough outside any major towns that it should be easy enough to slip by without incident. Barring any further episodes with stray guards, he thought with a frown.

Ozai rolled up the map, shoved it back in the bag, and retrieved two sweet rolls. He held them in his hands, meeting her gaze as his mouth tipped up in a smirk. The waterbender scowled and looked away. Ozai studied her briefly. He had mocked his son for his scandalous affair with a tribal girl so far beneath his station. But even he had to admit, the girl had an alluring beauty to her. Clear glacier blue eyes accented against mocha skin. She was striking. Even if she was a peasant. He waved the thought away like smoke.

"Imagine," he began, sauntering toward her, slowly, "if you funneled all that energy you waste pushing back, holding on to false hope, and instead willingly agreed to help me. Think of how much easier things could be. What do you have to lose? Surely, nothing you've already lost." He stooped down close in front of her and saw the barest flick of her eyes up his chest as their eyes met. "I might even consider freeing those lovely arms," he said in a low, silvery voice.

The waterbender's cheeks went red again and she took in a small breath.  _Yes, this was a fun little game_ , he thought with a smirk.

Her lips curled as she snarled. "I'll  _never_ help you."

Ozai's eyes narrowed in a sharp smile. "I'm afraid you're wrong about that. You  _will_ , when the time comes. Whether we do that the easy way or the hard way will be up to you."

* * *

The forest sighed. A brilliant tangle of orange and pink bled through the lattice of leaves overhead as sunset edged toward to twilight. Even from here, on the narrow, wooded path, Lu Da could see the distant familiar colors of the flag flapping in the breeze as he approached the edge of a town. The same insignia he had been seeing in a growing number of places. Nailed to trees. Tied to stakes in the ground. Flown on flags at the borders of villages. That same black fabric with the same red handprint and small grey skull in the center of the palm.

 _The Blood Brotherhood_. He'd seen the words smeared in a red that he knew wasn't paint across a previous town gate, carved into a tree below a tattered flag – the same flag that he was approaching now. Someone was marking their territory. Seizing it, more likely. Lu Da hoisted the satchel further up his shoulder, wrapped a hand lightly around his crossbow, and quickened his pace. There was still plenty of light but dusk was growing near. He would rather slip quickly through the town and find a more remote place to settle down for the night. There was no telling what kind of rats he might run up against here and he didn't need that kind of drama slowing him down.

The narrow dirt path gave way to a wider stone road. A raven was eyeing him from its perch atop the flag post as he passed through the tall open gate. The bird gave a sharp, piercing cry before extending its wings and flying off. Like the last two or three villages bearing the strange emblem, the town was oddly quiet. He had been willing to shrug it off then, given their small, quaint bearing. But this town was bigger. A lot bigger. Probably the largest town he'd been through since breaking off from Ozai. The few people he did see seemed to tense when they saw him, avoid his gaze. Something was definitely off.

His boots scraped over the stony ground, jarring in the stillness. Wind moaned between locked up buildings, light spilling out faintly through curtained windows. A coyote-fox yipped somewhere out of sight. And underneath it, he almost thought he heard a woman cry out.

Lu Da stopped. He looked around but saw no one. He listened. The coyote-fox yipped again. Lu Da released a breath and started walking again. A minute later, it came once more. No mistaking it this time. Definitely a woman.

As he walked, even as he strained his ears to catch it again, he told himself to keep moving, keep going. He needed to find a place to camp before nightfall. Preferably a healthy distance away from this place. But when a sound came again, it wasn't a woman's cry this time, but the cloying, sleazy drawl of several men's voices.

Lu Da trekked into the belly of the town. A small wooden well rested in a grassy stretch between two buildings. And along the side of the first building, the source of the voices came into view. A young brunette woman in a simple Earth Kingdom dress was pressed up against the house, a pail of water clutched in her white-knuckled fists as three men in black tunics surrounded her. The chests of their tunics bore the same insignia he had seen on the flags. A red handprint with a grey skull on the palm. The men purred and smacked their lips and sized up the woman like a pack of hungry wolves.

Lu Da clenched his jaw and kept walking, turning his eyes back on the road.  _Stay out of it, stay out of it, stay out of it…_

From the corner of his vision, he saw a man's hand claw at the woman's dress, exposing her shoulder and she screamed. Anger flared hot and before he could stop himself, he turned.

"You boys a little hard of hearing? Lady said keep your paws to yourself."

Their heads turned in unison, eyeing him with easy grins. "Aw, she doesn't mean it. Do you, my little strumpet?" The man ran a finger along her jaw and she cringed, snapped her head away.

"I said shove off," Lu Da growled.

One of the men huffed a laugh, stepping toward him. "You lost? Cause you are in the wrong place to be giving orders, stranger."

"Just passing through," he shrugged. "Not looking for trouble. But I am gonna see that you go find your fun somewhere else. What do pricks like you do for fun when there's no ladies to assault? I don't know, maybe catch some lizards, shove straws up their asses?"

The second man laughed. "That one of your weird little games?"

"My version's different. Don't make me show you."

"Ha! Arrogant jackass." He waved a hand at him. "Take him down!"

Lu Da yanked the long dagger from his belt as the first man drew his sword. The two on either side of him slipped into earthbending stances and Lu Da's jaw clenched.

 _Shit_.

The young woman slinked along the side of the house away from them. Lu Da locked eyes with her for a bare instant. He nodded slightly and she took his cue, turned and ran, water sloshing from her bucket, just as the first man lunged, steel singing in the fading light.

In the span of an instant, his shorter blade met the sword with a shrill clang and Lu Da managed to get his foot under the man's ribcage, kicking him off and lunging toward him, crushing an elbow into the man's nose with a loud crack. He staggered back, blood rushing down his mouth and chin, and Lu Da stabbed the blade toward him just as a huge chunk of rock hit Lu Da in the gut, another in his chest, cracking bone.

The force threw him onto his back, his dagger skittering away on the road. He curled into himself, gasping for air. Sections of earth rose around him, forcing his body straight as rock encased his ankles and wrists. The three men towered over him, sneering and mocking. Lu Da smiled through breathless gasps at the man dripping red and his face twisted in anger. A steel-toed boot kicked him in the ribs, another in the head. The eye socket. His gut. His vision exploded with stars, pain engulfing, and the world went black.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He woke on a cold stone floor. Lu Da drew a ragged breath and tasted blood, the musty air of neglected spaces, the damp tang of metal and wood and stone. He dragged himself upright, opened his eyes. Or, one of them. The other eye was swollen shut, the one on the good side of his face. Great. A blemish to mirror his disfigured side. He looked around.

The place was murky. Mildewed wooden walls surrounded him on all sides, save for a door of thick iron bars. His crossbow and satchel were gone. Lu Da muttered a string of curses. He dragged himself toward the barred door, pain lancing through his body. Several voices murmured somewhere out of sight, three of which he recognized. Those bastards. They were just close enough to piece the words together.

"Never seen a thing like them…"

"Fascinating…"

"What kinda rocks do you think they are?"

"The rare kind. Gotta be worth some serious coin."

His hands curled around the cold iron and he grimaced. Not good.

"I'm gonna need those back when you're through," he said, his voice reverberating against the stone walls.

The discussion went silent. There was a brief pause and then a man's smirking voice.

"It appears our friend is awake." Footsteps echoed and grew closer and then the lot of them appeared on the other side of the bars. The three men from before, another man he didn't recognize, and a tall, hard-looking woman. The first man crossed his arms and leered down at him.

"Have a nice sleep?"

"I'll have my things back now, if you please," he growled. "And then I'd like to be on my way."

The man chuckled. "Finders Keepers, I'm afraid. And you're not going anywhere. Not till you meet the big man. He's gonna want a little chat with you, find out where you got those pretty things. And then he'll decide what we do with you. Now, if you'll excuse me. I've got an appointment with a delightful little brunette girl." He winked and the others laughed. "You just hang tight."

"Don't touch her," Lu Da snarled.

The man stopped and turned slowly. He put his hand over his heart with mock sincerity. "Oh. Well, of course, if it means that much to you, I won't. But I gotta have my fun where I can. So, let's see if we can't give you another black eye to match."

* * *

People always said that waiting was the worst part, and Toph agreed. So much so, in fact, that she rarely waited for anything. Waiting left too much room for questions, for doubt. It weakened a person's resolve. Which was probably why, as she sat in the courtyard once again  _waiting_  for Sokka, she started to feel like she'd made a terrible mistake.

In falling for him in the first place. In allowing herself to hope. In taking the kiss that night for anything more than it probably was – a momentary misstep under the effects of alcohol.

Five days. That's how long it had been since the kiss. It was an uncomfortable length of time. Long enough for the awkwardness to grow and stretch with every almost-glance, every meeting spent sitting too far apart. She was starting to fear that Sokka actually had no plans of discussing it, or even acknowledging that it happened. Five days was barely skimming the not-too-weird-to-bring-it-up territory and edging on the too-much-time-has-passed-now territory. In all fairness, there had been very little time for weighty, private discussions, but if it didn't happen soon, it simply wasn't going to happen.

So, she waited on her bench as the sun climbed up over the horizon. Hoping he would find her, as he so often had in the quiet, early mornings. Hoping to catch a moment with him before the current of the day drowned out any chance. She picked at a fingernail and chewed her lip.

There was the scuff of a footstep and Toph's stomach fluttered. She forced her nervous hands into her lap as she turned to see Sokka walking toward her. Hope squeezed like a tight fist around her heart. She gathered her face into an easy smile.

"Hey," she said. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, wearing a weak smile. "Well, actually, I was looking for you because the Earth Kingdom ambassador got here earlier than expected. The Concord Assembly is calling for an immediate meeting with the Heads of State and advisors."

Her hope evaporated, leaving only a sinking weight in her chest. That was the reason he came? To retrieve her?

"Oh," Toph managed, the smile melting off her face. "Right now?"

"Yeah." Sokka shifted on his feet.

"Oh… okay." She stood up and rubbed a hand over her arm. The air between them tightened as they stood there facing each other, their eyes almost meeting and then sliding off.

Sokka cleared his throat and she lifted her gaze, but he only turned and said, "Let's go."

Toph crossed her arms as she followed him into the palace and through the halls to the conference room in the east wing. The walls were lined with portraits of past Fire Lords and war generals. Several people were already gathered at a large round table, exchanging grim tones and expressions. Toph and Sokka slipped quietly into the two remaining empty seats between Zuko and Aang. She glanced around the table.

Hakoda sat next to Zuko, followed by Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom ambassador whose name she overheard to be Hashar. Next to him sat the Grand Councilor and two other agents of the Concord Assembly, a man and a woman.

The Grand Councilor cleared his throat as she and Sokka took their seats, folded his hands on the table in front of him with a grim pinch of his mouth. "Some significant new developments in our investigation have come to light that warranted such an impromptu meeting. We wanted all parties to be present before addressing them. So, thank you all for being here on such short notice. Especially you, Ambassador, having just stepped off the boat this morning."

He took a deep breath. "Without further ado then, let me start with Lady Katara's alleged boyfriend. We have some promising leads regarding the young man's identity. In interviewing several of the locals who reported seeing him with Katara, a few of them also frequent similar local hangouts as our gentleman caller and described seeing him regularly, particularly at a nightclub called Chrysalis at the western edge of the city. We had a sketch artist sketch out his face based on multiple descriptions and I suspect it won't be long before we have him in custody. At that point, it is our hope that he will provide some insight into the days before Katara's disappearance and the extent of her involvement, if any, in the crisis at hand."

"What about Azula?" Zuko asked. "Have you found a trace of her at all yet?"

"I regret to say, Fire Lord, that we have yet to pick up her trail. We suspect she may be hiding out somewhere with the rebels, and the idea of her aiding that cause poses a threat in itself, but until we are able to locate their bases, we are unfortunately at an impasse.

"There is, however, a beacon of hope in the search for Ozai, which brings me to the most important point of this meeting. We received an alert via messenger hawk from the Earth Kingdom late last that he may have been spotted there, in a town called Hei Ryung. The descriptions matched, including that of the girl he was seen with, whom we assume to be Lady Katara. He was also accompanied by another man whose identity is yet unknown."

"Wait," Hakoda said, sitting forward and jabbing a finger toward the table. "You're telling me someone actually saw this monster who has my daughter walking about in the streets and he's  _still_  on the loose? Why didn't they stop him?!"

"Your anger and frustration are shared by everyone here, Chief Hakoda," the Grand Councilor replied with a sympathetic frown. "Regrettably, the young man who came forward said he didn't realize who he might have seen until they were already gone. Apparently, there was a large festival carrying on in the town. The witness said he'd asked her for a dance when the man next to her, matching Ozai's description, ran him off. He indicated their presumed trajectory, but despite the guards scouring the area they have not been seen since. Ozai may have changed course, it's difficult to say."

A heaviness permeated the room. Toph could feel it weighing on her shoulders. Hakoda exhaled sharply and looked down at the table with a tight frown, shook his head.

"We're doing all we can and more, Chief Hakoda," the woman next to the Grand Councilor said. "Rest assured, we will not stop until Ozai is found and Katara is brought home safely."

"Any idea what Ozai could possibly want with my sister?" Sokka asked. "If his freedom was the only thing he cared about, he wouldn't have bothered capturing her."

"I agree," affirmed the Grand Councilor. "Ozai is up to something and he's planning to use her somehow. I'm afraid, though, that until we hunt him down the rest will remain uncertain. Either way, as long as he holds her, she is in danger. Catching them is of utmost priority."

"Thank you, Grand Councilor," Zuko nodded grimly to all three representatives. "We appreciate all the Assembly's hard work."

The Grand Councilor gave a curt nod. "As long as Ozai or Azula are at large, as long as the rebels continue to be a threat, you have our undying aid, Fire Lord. We will see justice to those who deserve it, and we will fight alongside you to see peace restored to the world. For now, this meeting is adjourned."

Chairs scraped and the room slowly emptied. Toph hesitated and slid a sideward glance at Sokka. He was talking with Zuko and caught her gaze briefly before his eyes darted away. He smiled, patting Zuko on the arm and mouthing something to him. Zuko nodded and filed out of the room behind Aang, leaving him there alone in the room with Toph.

The quiet was suffocating. Sokka shifted on his feet and looked at her with a flat smile. "Hey," he said, taking a small step toward her.

"Hey," she said back, crossing her arms. Her eyes caught on a portrait of General Iroh before skimming back to Sokka. He sighed and looked at the floor, chewing his lip.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he said finally. "I've been hoping to find a time to talk but, well, things have been pretty busy." He gave a soft, weak laugh.

"You could say that," she smirked. The perfect mask of coolness, ease. But inside, her stomach was knotting.

"Look, about the other night…" He sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight again. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Toph's heart dropped into her stomach. He was  _sorry_?

No… This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to apologize. He was supposed to pour his heart out and tell her all the mushy things she'd been aching to hear for so long.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that. We were drinking, not exactly clearheaded. And all this stuff with Suki is still so fresh and raw and I just… I don't know." His shoulders sagged as he trailed off, looking down at his feet.

"It's fine," she managed in a light, steady voice. "I understand." She dragged her face into a smile and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She had read things wrong. Just like she'd feared. Stupid.

"I just… need some time to sort through it all. Please promise me things won't be weird between us."

Toph wanted to laugh or punch him or both. Things most definitely were going to be weird between them, for a while. At least for her. But despite her deeper feelings for Sokka, she didn't want to lose her friend. So, she steeled herself and shot him a smirk she didn't feel.

"I mean, were things ever not? Pretty sure weird is just what we do."

Sokka laughed and his posture slackened. "You make a point."

Silence stretched between them, ringing loud with all the things left unsaid. Toph cleared her throat with that fake smile.

"I'm gonna go catch up with Baldy. See you around?"

"Yeah, sure. See ya," he nodded.

Toph turned and her smile dissolved, her chest aching and heavy as she walked away.

* * *

Light drained from the sky, bleeding out the forest's colors to muted shades of grey. The heat had finally lowered to a tolerable degree as the sun disappeared and a cool evening breeze slid through Katara's hair, ruffling her tunic, kissing the damp hair at her neck. She closed her eyes with the relief.

The trees were alive with the clicking and chirping of insects, the only other sound beyond the hushed rustling of their footsteps. Katara slid a look at him. There was still just enough light to make out his sculpted features, the determined set of his jaw.

He hid so much behind that hardness.

It had been more than a day since their talk by the river. And they had spent most of it in silence, exchanging only a few concise words since. She wondered if he regretted it, that moment of openness. Katara's thoughts kept cycling back to him, to what he had revealed to her about his past.

It was horrible.

And yet morbidly intriguing.

The lid had been cracked. She'd gotten a glimpse. And now questions swirled through her mind like tea leaves stirred from the darkened depths of a cup.

Katara was surprised he'd appeased her with an answer at all. She would just as soon have expected Ozai to fabricate some kind of lie, avoid any kind of vulnerability. But for him to actually admit that his father had hated him to the point of near torture. That he'd tried – though failed miserably – to be a better father than his had been. There was no sob story that could ever justify any of the horrible things he had done, of course, but for the first time she'd seen a fleeting glimpse of the raw humanity behind the mask and now she couldn't seem to put it from her mind.

Her curiosity disturbed her. Katara knew she shouldn't be interested, kept repeating the words to herself on loop, but despite her better judgment, she found herself wanting to know more. What had molded Ozai into the man – the  _monster_  – he became? Where did nature end and nurture begin?

Another breeze sent a shudder of movement through the branches, carrying the earthy smell of moss and decomposing leaves. The majestic trees creaked as they swayed and as the wind died to the quiet murmur of the forest again, her skin prickled uncomfortably. The silence was growing awkward. Her skin felt too sensitive, the hair raising on her arms.

Katara bit her lip. She slid her eyes toward Ozai but didn't quite look at him. Her mouth opened, closed again.

_Don't._

_Don't do it_.

_Don't ask._

"There's one thing I don't understand," she heard herself say. The words felt jarring in the prolonged silence and a tingle crept over the back of her neck, across her face.

"Only the one thing?" Ozai sneered, not looking at her.

Katara shot him a sideward glare but ignored the bait. He hadn't shut her down, so against her better judgment, she continued in a quiet voice.

"Why did your father hate you so much? He couldn't have done those horrible things to you just because… I hope."

A muscle twitched in his jaw and his mouth turned down. "My, aren't you a nosy little shrew," he grumbled.

She felt a slight tensing in her muscles and looked away. "Just curious." She bit her lip again. Yep, shouldn't have asked, she scolded herself.

A bat swooped low and Katara flinched, looked up. The dark purple sky was edged with a single streak of orange through the silhouetted canopy of trees. He didn't answer and Katara looked back to see Ozai come to a stop, drop the bag to the ground. He closed his eyes and rolled his neck over his broad, bare shoulders with a low sigh. Katara glared and looked away awkwardly.

He stooped and dragged a coiled sleeping bag from the satchel, placed it on the ground. Katara was beginning to accept the fact that he was not going to indulge her with an answer, when he finally spoke.

"My mother was many years younger than my father," he began as he unrolled the first one. "Twenty-five years to be precise. By the time she got pregnant with me, Iroh was already fifteen and my father should have been long past the prime age for reproduction." He didn't look at her as he grabbed the second sleeping bag, unrolled it. "There were rumors. She denied them, of course. And for the sake of propriety, my father pretended not to hear them, fawning over her and actually treating me as a son when others were looking. In private, however… Well."

Katara's brows lifted, her mouth going slack. "Are you saying you're… the product of an affair?"

"No… Only that it was never proven either way. And had it been refuted, I doubt it would have made a difference. My father had already chosen to hate me."

Ozai sat down on his sleeping bag and rummaged around in the satchel. Katara dropped down on top of her own beside his and watched him retrieve something she assumed to be food. She didn't need to see inside the bag to know their supply must be starting to dwindle. It had been days since the last market and the rations seemed to be growing smaller at every stop.

Darkness was near complete now, broken only by faint grey light of the ascending half-moon that cut through the trees. She could scarcely make out anything beyond dark, indistinct forms. Katara looked at his face, but his expression was nearly lost to shadow. Ozai scooted a degree closer and Katara's throat tightened a fraction, a slice of pale light streaking over his bare torso. He held what she realized was a piece of dried fruit leather to her mouth. She sighed through her nose but took a bite anyway. She was too tired and hungry to wage a useless argument.

"So, your father just started burning you one day? Out of nowhere?"

In the weak, dappled moonlight she saw Ozai blink long and hard before settling a hard gaze on her. Katara's chest tightened. She was asking too much. He frowned and took a bite of his own portion. They ate in silence for several moments and she figured the conversation was over when he finally spoke again.

"At first, the abuse was only verbal. My father would tell me at least once a day that I would amount to nothing. When I was just a young child, my brother was already making something of himself, fighting in the army, an unmatched firebender as the world had never seen. Yet, despite his loathing of me, Azulon couldn't allow both heirs to go off to war. So I was kept in the palace like a prisoner."

Katara took another bite from the fruit leather in his hand. An owl-fox hooted softly nearby.

"All I did was study and practice firebending, desperate to prove my worth to him. Eventually, I surpassed even Iroh's skill. But it didn't matter. By the time I was a teenager, my father had long since stopped bothering to publicly hide his distaste of me. Hence, when the branding began. A funnel for his anger during the war and his animosity for me."

Katara's gaze fell. She blinked down at the ground and then looked back at him. She couldn't read his face but she could tell he was looking at her. She could feel the firm press of his gaze. She felt her face warm and the sudden urge to draw back but gave quiet thanks for the darkness, and this time she didn't try to look away.

They sat there in the dark. The silence stretched, stretched, and finally slackened when it became clear neither of them were going to break it. Ozai finally moved away and Katara released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. He closed the satchel and a moment later he was before her again, taking her ankles in his hands.

"As much as I've enjoyed this delightful little bedtime story, all good things must come to an end," he said, wrapping the rope around her ankles.

"You really don't have to do this." The words came out more pitiful than she'd intended and she grimaced.

She heard him scoff. "You have a long way to go to prove yourself of that," he replied.

Once her legs were bound, he slipped into his sleeping bag, propping his head up with his hand. He held hers open for her and she tensed. Heat rose to her cheeks. As usual, it was so close to his. She couldn't seem to get used to it. Katara reminded herself that he had not taken advantage of her yet, and then warily shimmied inside.

"Sweet dreams," he crooned, and she could hear the scornful smile on his voice as he let the cover fall over her.

* * *

Lu Da couldn't tell how long he'd been in his dingy little cell. There were no windows, no cracks in the walls. The only light a weak, murky glow of lanterns out of sight. It was disorienting, losing his grasp of time, but he guessed it had to have been a couple days now since they'd thrown him in here, at least a day since they'd endowed him with a second black eye. No one had come to him since.

He sat slumped against the dank wood wall next to the barred iron door. Dried, sticky blood covered his brow and cheekbone, his nose and chin, stained his tunic where it had dripped. Every breath hurt. Damn earthbenders had fractured his sternum, and he'd felt it crack further when they'd beaten him again. If these assholes didn't kill him, Ozai definitely would. He didn't know how he was going to retrieve the stones and scroll, but the odds didn't look good.

Somewhere a door groaned open, closed. Lu Da expected the clunk of boots but instead heard a single set of soft, barely audible footsteps. A moment later, a young woman appeared holding a narrow iron decanter in her hands. The same girl he'd fought those men for harrassing. She dropped to her knees outside the bars and gasped faintly as she surveyed his condition.

"Oh, spirits," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." She slipped the decanter through the bars and held it out to him. "Here. You must be thirsty."

Lu Da studied her and then took it with a small thank you. Cool water washed down his parched throat, wetting his cracked lips, and when he was finally sated he dragged in a breath, handing the pitcher back to her.

"They send you in here to me?" he asked.

"No. Actually, if they knew I was here now, I'd be in trouble. But I had a chance to slip in between the changing guards and wanted to see you, make sure you were okay."

"Eh, I've had worse," he shrugged. She gave a sad smile. "More worried about you. They do that often?"

She nodded. "Ever since they came to the town. My father was governor. They killed him and my brother, took my mother and me and my two sisters, all the women really, as their servants, their… well, you know." She blushed and looked down with a grimace. "Some girls were never seen again. There were caravans of scary looking men that came through here twice after they arrived. Both times, several women went missing. Slavers, I'm sure of it. When the Brotherhood first arrived, we tried to fight back, of course, at first. But they ganged up on us, beat us. It's better now if we just let them do what they want, get it over with. It's the difficult ones that seem to disappear." She wrung her hands in her lap, shook her head at the floor. "I knew better than to struggle against them today. I'm sorry. Maybe if I hadn't, you wouldn't be here now."

"Hey, don't ever apologize for sticking up for yourself. And don't worry about me."

She turned her face toward him and gave a shaky smile, a tear slipping down her rosy cheek. "I don't know how I'll ever repay your kindness."

He gave a soft laugh. "Didn't do much. And I would never expect payment. It was the right thing to do, that's all. What's your name?"

"Rinna. And yours?"

"Lu Da."

She let out a soft breath. "It's been so long since I've encountered a good man," she said with a warm smile. "I thought your kind were extinct."

"Well, can't tell you one way or another." His lips pressed into a line and he shook his head, broke her gaze with a frown. "But I do know your praise is undeserved. I'm not a good man. Done a lot of bad things."

"A lesser man would have turned a blind eye, went on his way. I don't care what you've done, there is more goodness in you than some nobler men could claim. Of that I am certain. Thank you for restoring a small seed of my hope in humanity." Faint footsteps sounded somewhere out of sight and Rinna tensed, her eyes going wide. She darted a glance over her shoulder and turned back to Lu Da. "Someone's coming. I have to go."

She grasped his ringed, calloused hand in both of hers, the small, slender fingers dwarfed by his. "Thank you," she whispered. He smiled.

"Take care, Rinna."

She rose quickly and turned, disappearing into the shadows. A moment later, several pairs of boots were marching toward him, a bassy voice echoing down the hall.

"Let me get a look at this bearer of peculiar trinkets." Lu Da blinked and sat up straighter, strained his ears. Maybe the beating had impaired his hearing. But he could swear he recognized that voice. The booming, bright cadence thinly cloaking the hard edge beneath. "Man like that's worth meeting face to face."

Yep. He didn't know how it was possible. But there was no mistaking who it belonged to.

Bao Zirrik. Most knew him simply as Bao the Bloody. He could pick out his old comrade's voice anywhere. But what was he doing here?

The drumming of boots grew loud, ringing in his ears, and finally several men appeared and that familiar hulking wall of a man came into view. As massive as ever, and maybe a little thicker in age. His wide jaw sloped into a paunchy, stubbled chin and neck. Still shaving his head and beard. Lu Da's eyes flicked to the red hand print and grey skull on his tunic, then back to his face.

The smile fell from the large man's expression as their eyes met, his face going slack. He cocked a brow and screwed up his nose. "Lu?"

Lu Da shrugged with a crooked smirk. "Found me."

Bao's hands went palm up as he looked between his men with a hard twist of his mouth. "What the hell is this? This some kind of joke?"

The other three men recoiled slightly and Lu Da's mouth curled in a half smile.

"Uh." The men exchanged anxious glances. "No, sir. This is the man who–"

"Get him out of that cell and cleaned up!"

They flinched back and one spared a grudging look at Lu Da. "But, Bao–"

"Do it, or I'll beat  _you_  bloody and throw you in there instead. Give the man a drink, a proper meal, and then bring him to me. Immediately!"

"Yes, sir," they grumbled.

Bao turned on his heel and stalked off. Lu Da cocked his head with a smile and the first man fixed him with a scowl as he slotted the key, turned it. The door opened with a resounding groan and the other two men entered and yanked him to his feet. At the end of the hall was a door and they dragged him through. The grimy room was empty save for a pump and bucket to draw water from the well. They filled it, and then coarsely scrubbed the layers of blood from his skin. When they were finished, the room smelled like copper, ruddy water pooled on the floor, the discarded rags stained red. His eye was still swollen shut, but at least his skin was no longer sticky.

The stark white daylight was like a physical blow as they dragged him outside. How many days had it been? They entered a long building and stepped into a bathhouse. They dropped him into a seat at a table. A dark-haired woman with a timid posture appeared with a bowl of steaming meat, vegetables, and rice, placed it before him with a small bow. Lu Da nodded his thanks and looked around the place for Rinna. He didn't see her.

He ate and drank undisturbed and afterward, two of the men appeared again. They took him by the arms as he stood and finally led him back outside and into a smaller building. Bao was standing over a desk, surveying a map with several marker flags. He looked up and his face brightened. He shot a quick look at the two men and they stiffened, retreated back out the door.

"Dirty Hands Lu Da." Bao stepped out from his desk and strutted toward him with a wide grin, his arms extended. "Never expected to see you in this neck of the woods again. How long's it been?"

Lu Da huffed a laugh. "Long." The colossal man embraced him with a slap on the back.

"Come, sit. Take a load off." Bao gestured to an empty seat and Lu Da sat down, crossed his arms. "Spirits know you need it. My apologies for… all that. If I'd known–"

Lu Da shrugged. "Water under the bridge now. Rather talk about you. What are you doing here? You run this town?"

"This town?" he laughed. "I command this whole damn corner of the Earth Kingdom now. My own little empire, and growing."

"Hmm. Yes, I saw the flags." He frowned slightly. "The Blood Brotherhood, is it? Catchy little nod to your moniker. When did you launch that little getup?"

"Not long after I last saw you, I imagine. But it's really coming into its own now." The large man sunk into a chair opposite Lu Da and sat back with a loud sigh.

"All right. You're the bigwig. So I gotta know, whose idea of fun is it, assaulting innocent women? Yours? Or you just let your cronies run amok, do whatever the hell they want? Dogs oughta be kept on a leash."

"Come on, Lu," Bao grimaced, rolling his head back. "You mustn't take things so seriously, it's bad for your heart. Surely, you're not going soft in your prime? Now that would be a shame." He crossed his arms. Lu Da frowned and looked down. Silence filled the room.

Bao had never been the morally sound type. He'd had a reputation back then to rival Lu Da's, known for doing anything and everything in order to get a job done. It was how he'd gained the  _Bloody_  moniker. Nothing was sacred. But they had been friends once, worked on runs together several times. Lu Da had liked him, as much as a pirate could like another pirate. But this kind of ruthlessness seemed extreme, even for him. The man before him now had devolved into something he no longer recognized. The unease pinched, like an ulcer.

"So," Lu Da began at last. "What now? You gonna let me go?"

"What's the rush? I thought we might have a little chinwag. Catch up, like old friends do. So why don't you tell me. What brings you through these parts?"

If there was one rule Lu Da adhered to most, it was never tell the truth when a lie will suffice. And that went double when running a secret, time-sensitive mission with Ozai. Triple when it came to dealing with Bao the Bloody. The last thing he wanted was for that man to get his greedy hands anywhere near it. But the giant man could sniff out a lie like bloodhound could prey, and Lu da knew he had to tread carefully. Cling as close to the truth as he could.

"On a job," he said simply. "Those stones? Smuggling them to an affluent dealer in the Earth Kingdom for some wealthy bastard in the Fire Nation. Fetching him a pretty penny and a hefty reward for me."

Bao clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. "The fearsome Lu Da reduced to a petty smuggler? Tell me it isn't true."

"You know there's no job I'll turn down for the right amount of coin."

"Ha! Well, if that's not the truth! Didn't earn the name Dirty Hands for nothing, eh?" But his laughter died off too quickly, replaced by a hard, grim frown. "There's just  _one_  small hole in that tale of yours. The scroll. You smuggling that too? Cause last I checked, not a soul still speaks that dead language anymore, much less reads it. No one's gonna pay half a coin for a worthless piece of paper like that." Bao leaned forward, one hand resting on his knee. "No one, save for those cocksucking whelps at the College of the Ancients. So. Care to revise your little story?"

Lu Da's heart beat a little faster but he cast an easy smirk, held up his hands. "Look, I don't ask questions. I do the job, they pay me. That's it."

Bao smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, a razor-sharp curl of his mouth. He rose to his feet and crossed his hulking arms, looking hard at Lu Da for an uncomfortably long moment.

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other, Lu," he began at last. "I can understand the shock of it all may have jogged your faculties a bit. So, let me bring you up to speed. And pay attention now." He began to circle the chair, boots thudding slowly on the wood floor as he slid from view. "It took me a long time to claw my way up from the dregs. It was a grueling and messy path. I've grown angry and tired and my patience has withered. I've killed a lot of people along my way to the top. Some of them thought to cheat me, some tried to lie. I didn't like it one bit. Now, I'm afraid one more lie might be the last stinging drop in a goblet full of sorrow. And then…" A firm grip came down on his shoulder as Bao reappeared on his other side. He leaned in threateningly close, and Lu Da looked up beneath lowered brows. "Well, then I might do something I would later regret. So, do you understand, now, why you shouldn't lie to me?"

Lu Da looked down, set his jaw. He cursed inwardly and closed his eyes with a tight sigh. "Alright," he said finally, finding Bao's gaze. His grip relaxed a measure. "I lied, yes. But only a little."

He barked a laugh. "Only a little, he says. You know, I've heard of men who are half wolf, women who are half fish, but you will not convince me there's such thing as a half  _truth_. Now start talking before I change my mind about you."

"I need your word that you'll keep a tight lid on it."

"Hmm." Bao stroked his wide, stubbly chin. "On my honor as a former pirate," he nodded.

Lu Da knew that meant only as long as it benefitted him to keep it, but it was the best he could hope for from Bao. He released a long breath, his mouth pinching in a frown as he began.

"I'm on an errand with the former Fire Lord. Ozai."

He raised a brow. "Ozai? The very Fire Lord Ozai who's now a wanted fugitive?" He made a point of looking around, bulky arms extended. "I don't see him with you. Where is he?"

"We split up. Too many guards. I'm taking the scroll up to that college you mentioned to be translated, meeting up with him later."

Bao seemed to consider this a moment. He surveyed Lu Da, chewing his lip, arms crossed. "What's he need this scroll for?"

"It's connected to those stones you saw. But there's two more he needs to find. They can open portals connected to the avatar spirit or the universe or something like that. But he needs to decipher the scroll first."

"And after he opens these portals?"

Lu Da didn't need to answer. He saw understanding wash across the man's face. Bao smiled.

"He wants to kill the Avatar. And then promptly take over the world again, I presume." He gave a rasping chuckle, shook his head. "You've some friends in high places, it seems. Connections. Imagine… All we could accomplish if we worked together. I could make you my right hand. It'd be like old times, the two of us. Ah, weren't those the days?"

He sat down again and closed his eyes, took a long, slow breath in and released it with control. When he opened them again, he crossed his arms and fixed Lu Da with a cruel simper.

"I'm going to let you go, old friend. On one condition. You help Ozai, do whatever it takes to make sure he succeeds. And when you're done, you come back here and work with me. And I'd like you to convince Ozai to claim some stake in it too. Doubt he'd turn down a chance for more power, control, and I'm looking to expand my hold. Territory moves are always dangerous. I've seen men bite off more than they can chew, eyes bigger than their stomachs. A mistake I intend to circumvent. It'd be a win all around, far as I can see. What do you say?"

Lu Da made a soft sound between a breath and a laugh. He wanted to punch the man straight in the throat. Instead, he forced himself to smile. Arranged his face into a mask of easiness. "Hard to say no to an offer like that." He doubted the smile could conceal his loathing of his former comrade but the man didn't seem to notice.

"That's my boy. Quite a fortuitous meeting this has been, and yet, I think, perhaps providential. We'll be in touch then." He pushed up from his chair and drew the satchel and crossbow from a shelf under his desk, held them out. "Your affects," Bao said with an embellished sweep of his arm. Lu Da took them and slung them over his shoulders.

He led him to the door and held it open for him. Lu Da passed through. "Love to give your boys a fond farewell, but alas, I have to be on my way," he said as he thudded down the steps.

The large man wheezed a laughed. "Wit as dry as ever."

"Some things never change." As he reached the road, he heard the man call after him.

"One last thing, Lu." Lu Da turned. "Do see that you come back. If you fail to return,  _I_  will find  _you_." He held Bao's sharp smiling gaze for a long moment, the echo of his words hovering in the air like birds of prey. Lu Da gave a faint nod, and then turned and started down the road.

Rinna's sad face flickered in his mind and his nostrils flared. He made a silent promise to her, to himself, as the town slowly shrank behind him, the stony road dwindling to a lightly beaten path. Oh, he would return when all this was over. That old behemoth could count on it. And when he did, he was taking this whole shit show down, gutting the rot from the inside out.

Starting with Bao the Bloody.


	15. Cold Silk

  **A/N: Yay for snow days! What they said would be 2-4 inches turned into a blizzard of 6-10, and what better way to spend the day than finish up this chapter :) Thanks to those who've reviewed so far! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading!**

* * *

The smell of woodsmoke drifted distantly on the breeze, faint still but growing stronger as they walked. 

Katara had been surprised, at first, at Ozai’s decision to follow it.  It hadn’t been an easy one to make – she had seen the caution weighing in his expression, his rigid posture, as they’d silently eaten their scanty ration of dried meat, the last thin strips of fruit leather.  The sweet rolls were gone.  The fruit and nuts were gone.  And the forest had been thinning noticeably over the past two days, even breaching at times into small meadows, no fruit-bearing trees to be seen. 

When they’d awoken that morning to the subtle trace of woodsmoke in the air, she had expected Ozai to beeline as quickly as possible in the other direction, away from any sign of civilization.  Instead, as they’d finished their scraps of food and Ozai had gathered their gear, he’d said a few curt words about going to find its source, hopefully somewhere to stock up on food.

Hope flickered to life in her chest at the scent, that unmistakable sign of life somewhere close by.  That meant a chance she might be rescued.  She had seen the wanted poster for Ozai in that festival town.  Ozai – but not her.  She was sure Zuko would spare no time or expense plastering her face right up there with him if he’d discovered the horrible things she had done.  And that meant he hadn’t, not yet at least.  And maybe he wouldn’t.  Just maybe, she was going to get away with it after all.  If Ozai were caught, if she were rescued, she could return to life in the capital, return to Zuko.

_“Foolish girl, still clinging to your fragmented vision of a happy ending.”_

_“I’m rather surprised you still defend him after the way he treated you.  Strung you along like a piece of meat on a string.”_

Katara set her teeth and her cold blue eyes cut sideways.  If there was anyone with a skewed perception of love it was Ozai.  His father had viciously abused him.  He had badly burned his own son’s face just for voicing an opinion.  Had banished his wife from ever stepping foot in the Fire Nation again.  The man was hardly one to speak about the treatment of others.  But the words had still stung with a grain of truth.  Yes, she had let Zuko string her along, but only because he still loved her.  He’d said it himself, that he wished they could be together.  And she’d clung to the hope, however fragile, that one day he’d take a stand against the Council and they would be.

A thought stirred in the back of her mind.  Zuko may be engaged to Mai.  But she wondered, now, if him losing her for a while, if knowing Katara’s life was in danger and having a taste of life without her near, might just be the catalyst she needed to jar him to his senses.  You don’t realize what you have until it’s gone.  Maybe he’d have a change of heart and finally leave Mai.  Whatever this smoke trail was leading them to… this could be her chance.

Ozai stopped briefly to pull her cloak from the satchel, threw it over her shoulders again, and she glared at him.

“You know, it’d be a lot less suspicious if you just untied my arms,” she grumbled.

“And you know what my answer to that will be,” he said coolly as he took up pace again.

“You’ve been letting me walk,” she countered as she trailed him.  “I can still bend with my feet, but I haven’t.  Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Aside from suggesting you may be smarter than you look?”  He stopped and turned, glowering down at her.  “No.”

Katara flashed him a dark frown as he led her forward again. 

Soon the forest broke onto a tiny, secluded village.  Shabby little houses dotted the dirt road, steam rising from holes in a few thatched roofs. Voices drifted on the air from out of sight and up ahead three children, two girls and a small boy, were playing in the road, throwing a worn ball back and forth over the younger boy’s head.  They laughed as he kept jumping up, trying to catch it, whining as it escaped his grasp each time.

One of them, the taller one, wrapped the ball in her arms and the girls cut away suddenly with impish grins, their laughter singing over the bray of a hippo cow as they ran toward Ozai and Katara, the boy wailing as he trailed after them.  Katara guessed the girls to be about seven and nine, all gangly limbs and missing-tooth smiles and tousled hair. 

The older one’s eyes caught on them as they ran closer and they skidded to a stop, their smiles shrinking in unison.  The little boy, who looked about three, tottered up behind them, whining and reaching for the ball, oblivious to the object of the girls’ attention.

“Who are _you_?” the younger girl asked with a suspicious frown.

“Mio, don’t be rude,” the older one whispered out the side of her mouth.  “Are you guys traders from another village?”

“No,” Ozai said curtly.  “We’re travelers looking to buy food.”

The little boy succeeding in grabbing the ball but this time the older girl released it absently, turning toward the other.

“Take Hoshu back to his house.”

The younger girl, Mio, slid them a wary look as she guided Hoshu away.  The older girl turned back to them.  “My little sister doesn’t like strangers much.  My name’s Mirei.  Where are you guys from?”

Ozai replied with crisp, cool ease.  “Far away.  Your father, does he sell at the market?”

“Oh, there’s no market here.  We trade goods with each other and other villages and the grownups take turns going on long trips for special things.  But my father tends the village farm.  Come on,” she waved, “I’ll take you to him.”

Flies buzzed as Mirei led them up the dirt road, Ozai’s heavy hand firmly against Katara’s back, a warning.  They passed a tall man chopping firewood, the crack of his axe echoing sharply off the houses.  The rattling of a wheelbarrow as a woman carted by.  The smell of old straw and onion grass mingled with the woodsmoke, thick in the air now and Katara could finally see why.  An old lady sat bowed at a roaring kiln, bending mud and clay into various forms of pottery, baking them over the flames.  Katara watched, mesmerized, as her hands moved with fluid grace, molding the earth into beautiful, elaborate shapes, intricate designs.

“That’s Sujin,” Mirei gestured.  “They say she’s the best potter for miles around.  Some people come here just to trade for her pottery.”

She led them to a meager house, still larger than the rest by comparison.  “Here we are,” she smiled, pulling on the door.  It scraped open over the uneven step as she led them in.  The main room served as the kitchen and living quarters.  A dog looked up lazily with a gentle wag of his tail.  Against the wall, stew was simmering over a small fire and two women stood nearby, gabbing and smiling.  One of them could have been an older version of Mirei.  Her mother, Katara guessed.  The woman looked up, a smile and nod before turning back to her friend.

They walked over the bare floors and through a back door onto a small plot of land.  “Our farm,” Mirei said with a sweep of her arm.

Katara looked around with a faltering smile.  A few rows of crops lined the modest garden, retained by a rickety wooden fence.  A man stood at the far end, stroking his plow animal’s neck, trying to coax the gemsbok bull forward.

“Dad!” she called out, waving.

The man turned and smiled, held a finger up that said he’d be a minute.  Mirei chuckled softly and led them back inside.

“You guys can wait here.  I’m gonna go help him.  It won’t be long.”  She skipped back out the door and it slammed shut behind her.

Katara could hear the two women talking in hushed, bubbly tones just out of sight.  If she could just make eye contact with one of them, exchange a look that read _help_.  Men were prone to missing something like that, but you could almost always count on a woman to pick up on subtext.

They stood against a wall, Ozai’s hand still pressed into her back.  Katara shifted, trying to inch toward the center of the room, into their line of sight.  Give them a look, do something that might signal a silent cry for help.  She wasn’t trying, at first, to listen to anything they were saying.

“…rumors about Fire Lord Zuko…”

Katara’s ears perked up like a deer hearing a twig snap.  She strained then to pick out the words.

“Odd, I agree.  No grand spectacle, no ceremony.  Such a sudden wedding.”

She took in a breath as her stomach dropped like lead, cold and heavy.  _Wedding?_  

Katara stiffened and made to move toward them but Ozai’s hand slid from her back to wrap around her arm, holding her there.

“Got married in secret in the wee hours of morning, I heard,” the woman went on.

Against her, she felt Ozai lean down and his voice came in a deep whisper over her ear.  “Still convinced he cares for you?”  She could hear the sneer in his tone.  Katara’s nostrils flared, her eyes hot and stinging, and she made to pull away when his fingers clamped tightly where they held, digging into flesh.  “Do _not_ draw attention.”

 “Some think it’s on account of the unrest, the threat of civil war with the uprising and all.”

“Honestly, I wonder myself if Lady Mai wasn’t… with child.  Might have married quick to avoid the scandal.  Spirits know the Fire Lord’s had enough of that to last his lifetime.”

“Shameful.”

Her heart felt sluggish, weak.  While she was missing, instead of throwing all his focus and energy into finding her, Zuko had gone and married Mai.

Her visions of rescue, of reuniting with him in the city, the dream that he might finally choose her, shattered before her eyes.  In the corner of her vision, she saw Ozai looking at her.  Katara didn’t look back.  She didn’t have the strength to brave the sneer she might find there, or the energy to scowl back.  The life had rushed out of her, leaving only a numb, empty shell.

The back door swung open and Mirei and her father burst into the house with easy grins, the man dusting his palms on his pantlegs.  Ozai removed his hand from her arm, replacing it at her back.  Katara tried to swallow past the lump in her throat and didn’t quite manage a smile back.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the man said with a small bow.  “My daughter tells me you two are looking to procure food for your travels.”  Ozai nodded.  “I’m happy to help out as I can.” 

The farmer smiled warmly.  A reasonably handsome man, in a rugged sort of way.  His dark brown hair touched his shoulders, a thick layer of stubble darkening his face.  His eyes skimmed over Katara and a brow quirked.

“A bit warm to be dressed like that, isn’t it?”  He gave a single chuckle.  “I’m sweating just looking you.” 

Katara took in a thin breath and locked eyes with the farmer.  Ozai’s fingertips clawed at her back.

“I can hang your cloak up for you if you’d like–”

“She isn’t feeling well,” Ozai cut in tersely.  “Best to leave it.”

“Ah… I see.”  The man’s posture tightened a measure and his probing gaze flicked between them for a beat too long.  Katara could almost feel Ozai hold his breath.  The farmer cleared his throat.  “Well, uh, let me show you what we have on the shelves.  You’re welcome to take some produce with you if you like, but not sure how much cooking you want to do.”

Mirei scampered off and he motioned for them to follow him out back, through the garden and out the fence to a small shed.  He unlocked the door and they stepped inside to shelves dotted with jars of preserved fruits and fermented vegetables, cured meats, rice cakes, candied persimmons.

“You came at a good time.  Just getting ready to trade and sell off what we have, make room for new batches.  Crops are doing well this year.”

Ozai filled the large satchel with some of everything and back outside in the garden, the bag was packed further with strawberries, goji berries, currants, and cucumbers.  He paid the farmer and the man led them back into the house.

“I know you’re probably wanting to get back on the road, but you’re welcome to stay for the night if you’d like.  We always have room for guests.”

Katara stiffened.

“Thank you, but no,” Ozai said.  “We have to move on.”

“Just as well,” the man nodded, walking them to the front door.  It grated open and they stepped back out onto the sunbaked dirt road.  “Where are you two headed anyway?  I hope you know to steer clear of the Bone Road.”

Beside her, Ozai hesitated.  He turned.  “Why?”

“People have been known to disappear off that route.  Lot of dangerous goings on in that area these days, populated by all manner of thugs.  Guessing they took it for their own personal highway.  Might wanna take a detour, I wouldn’t chance it if I were you.”

Ozai’s lips formed a line as he gave a curt, grim nod.  The farmer waved as they set off and soon the village disappeared behind them, swallowed up by the trees.  He removed her cloak and stuffed in back in the satchel. 

As the gentle murmur of the forest settled around them again, thoughts churned like dark storm clouds in her mind.

Her life was in danger.  She was being held hostage by a world-class criminal, a former tyrant.  And what had Zuko done in the meantime?  Gotten married, while she was captured.  Nevermind that he didn’t even know if she was okay.  Was he even looking for her?  Or was he only concerned with catching Ozai?

“Quite an unfortunate turn of events,” Ozai sneered, as though she’d said the words aloud.  “Married.  Without so much as a thought to your well-being, it seems.”  He tisked.  “To be fair, I did try to warn you, my son’s moral compass doesn’t exactly point true North.  You were just his little plaything and he treated you in kind.”

“Stop talking,” Katara said through clenched teeth, keeping her eyes fixed ahead.

“Still so against helping me now?  It’s not as though you have anything left to fight for.  After you’ve done what I ask, you’ll be free to go, you have my word.  Though you might consider taking up root somewhere else, start a new life.  There’s nothing waiting for you back there.”

Katara’s stomach twisted.  Her lips pressed together and her gaze shifted toward the ground.

“I already told you, I won’t help you,” she grumbled.  “My answer’s the same.”

Katara didn’t look at him.  But from the corner of her eye she saw him watching her, smirking. 

* * *

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. 

Or fucks you up mentally.

Lu Da’s foot slid against the narrow stone path and he barely caught his balance, a clattering of pebbles raining down over the cliffside.  He swore under his breath and tried not to look down.

Falling a thousand feet off the side of a mountain.  That will kill you.

Lu Da hated heights.  He hated them almost as much as he hated Ozai right now for making him take his stupid hoodoo scroll all the way up the White Spire.  For omitting that crucial bit of his plan when they’d set course for the college.  Classic Ozai.  Honestly, why was he even surprised?  Conniving asshole. 

The path widened again and he released a tight sigh, rejoining with the countless stone steps that snaked all the way up the mountain to the College of the Ancients.  The steps were worn and shallow and crumbling in places, at times disappearing into stretches of rocky, fissured paths, but always resurfaced again as the road climbed higher.

A spiky line of spruce trees bit into the expansive sky of blue, snatching rays of bright sunlight and scattering it.  Cold wind whistled through the aspens and raked his scalp.  It had been so hot at sea level, he’d found it difficult to fork out the money for the thick, lined cloak but now he was glad for the forethought.  He wrapped the cloak tighter and steeled himself against the chill.  The college sat near the top of the mountain, just beneath its snowy white crest.  He was only about two-thirds of the way there and even now the temperatures were plummeting fast.  Lu Da pushed himself forward, keeping his eyes fixedly away from the blurring stretch of Earth Kingdom far below.  He had no plans of spending the night trying to keep from freezing to death.  He needed to be there before sunset.

Lu Da’s foot turned on a stone and a pair of jackal-wolves howled in the distance.  He swore.  If he died, he was going to haunt the shit out of Ozai.

The sun slid its way down the sky, casting long violet shadows over the mountain, and cold mist was shrouding the steep slopes as he climbed higher.  It couldn’t be far now.  Hardy tufts of grasses were silvered with frost and a skiff of ice crystals blew against his face.  Another curve of the path, up a steep stretch of crooked stone steps, and finally the cold grey face of a structure emerged through the mist. 

As he drew near, Lu Da stopped mid-stride, his frozen face going slack.  It was so much larger than he had expected.  More fortress than college it seemed, a sprawling giant of ancient stone.  The broad stairway at its foot split into two, curving up to meet separate arched doors, a girthy turret soaring up from the center and a large, tattered green flag flapping there in the wind.

His boots crunched over a thin crust of snow as he moved forward, ascending the stairs and taking the left fork up to a solid wood door.  Lu Da hesitated, looked around.  It felt strange, walking up to such a lonely, formidable place and simply knocking.  As though he were just stopping by for tea.  Not a guard in sight, or even a lookout.  The college probably didn’t get many visitors, frozen and isolated as it was it.  The scholars were known hermits, devoting their lives to the preservation and advancement of knowledge.  He’d heard that, once committed, they never left and received food and supplies through designated runners from the village far below.

An iron eagle head was affixed to the door, a wide iron ring hanging from its mouth.  Cold metal bit at his fingers as Lu Da grasped the ring and knocked.  He waited, shoving his hands in his pockets to repress a shiver.  After a long moment, a lock scraped and the door groaned open just enough to reveal a grey-haired man with a long beard.

The man quirked a bushy grey eyebrow.  “Can I help you?”

Lu Da arranged his face into a guileless smile and nodded.  “I was hoping so, yes.  You see, I’ve found an old scroll.  Looks like it could be worth something, but I can’t read the darn thing.  It was suggested to me that I try my luck here.  Hoping you might be able to translate it for me.”

The man’s eyes flicked over Lu Da’s bruised, scarred, tattooed face to the crossbow on his shoulder before meeting his eyes again.  Lu Da fought the urge to shift on his feet and forced his smile steady.  His injuries had healed a good bit – his eye was no longer swollen shut and the bruises on his face were fading – but he knew he must still be a sight.

“Had a little accident on my way here,” he said with a breathy laugh.  “Always so clumsy.”

The man tipped his chin up with a weak smile.  “Well, come in from the cold, at least.”  He stood back and let Lu Da step inside, sealing the door shut behind him. 

Warmth blossomed around him and he shivered.  A fire roared in the hearth against the wall.  At a long table, several men and women, many old, some surprisingly young, sat bowed over worn books or stacks of paper.  One by one, they looked up from their work, meeting Lu Da with expressions ranging from surprise to mild curiosity.

“We have a visitor,” the man said, then, turning to Lu Da, he bowed regally.  “Welcome to our college.  My name is Master Sheng, the headmaster here.  And you are?”

“L– Uh,” he fumbled, clearing his throat.  “Tezek.”

“So.  A scroll, did you say?”

“That’s right.”  Lu Da unshouldered his bag and reached inside, presenting the faded, rolled parchment.  “I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away.  I’m a bit of an amateur historian and collector myself.”

Master Sheng cocked a thick eyebrow as he took the scroll, a corner of his mouth twitching.  “Really?”

“Hard to believe from looking at me, I know.”

“Well, I never judge a book by its cover, as they say.”  The headmaster smiled primly and carefully unrolled the paper.  His hazel eyes skimmed its contents once, then again, more slowly.  Sheng blinked.  The smile fell from his face as he looked up at Lu Da, his mouth going slack.  “Where did you find this?” the words came in a breath.

A moment later, he was surrounded by scholars eager to get a glimpse.

“In a cave on an island somewhere near the Fire Nation.  One of my spelunking adventures.  Crazy, huh?”

“You found this… in a cave?  In this condition?”

“In a chest off a tiny hidden passage, yeah.”

The headmaster’s mouth worked as he shook his head.  He released a breath.  “I can’t tell exactly what this is yet, but I know it is of great importance.  At the moment, though,” he said, handing the scroll back, “it’s late.  Why don’t you get some rest, Tezek?  I’m sure you’re weary from your journey here.  We can delve more deeply into the matter tomorrow, with clear minds.”

Lu Da nodded, replacing the scroll in the bag, and let Master Sheng lead him down a long, dim stone hallway, up a short flight of stairs, and into a room.  He lit a few lanterns as Lu Da set his bag on the floor.

“I hope you’ll find it comfortable enough here.”

“More comfortable than sleeping on the frigid mountainside, I’m sure,” Lu Da said with a bow.  “I’m grateful.”

The headmaster bowed in return and withdrew back down the hall.

The bed was hard and the room was chilly.  By morning, Lu Da’s body felt stiff and sore.  He rubbed his heavy eyes, cringing as his feet landed on the cold stone floor, and quickly dragged on clothes, rubbing his arms for warmth. 

He plodded down the hall to find the headmaster.  A fire was crackling in the hearth as he entered into the large, warm foyer.  Several scholars were seated there at the long table.  It was hard to tell if they were the same from the night before, or new ones.  They all wore the same dreary grey shifts.  Still, he wondered if they ever slept. 

Lu Da cleared his throat.  “Excuse me, where can I find Master Sh–?”

“Ah, you’re awake.”  Lu Da turned to see Sheng emerge from an opposite hallway, stepping lively toward him.  “Good.  I have something I want you to see.”

He waved for Lu Da to follow and he did, through a long narrow hallway filled with doors, down a set of stairs and around a left bend into a vast room filled with tables and chairs, many of which were occupied, and walls lined with books.  A library, it seemed. 

Sheng led him to the far wall in the left corner of the room, to a table upon which a thick, worn book was resting next to a small, arched slab of stone.

“I did some digging based on some of what I could decipher on your scroll last night.  And I believe I may have found something.  May I see it?”

Lu Da pulled out the scroll and handed it over.  The headmaster unrolled it and laid it next to the book, which Lu Da realized was a dictionary of sorts, and then pulled a small journal from his pocket and flipped to a blank page.  He stroked his long, grey beard and began leafing through the dictionary, pausing to run a finger along the ancient script on the scroll and writing notes on the blank pages of his journal.  At last, he stood up, deep lines forming between his brows as he looked between his notes and the scroll, shaking his head.

“This– this is incredible,” he muttered.  “As I suspected, the scroll was written ages ago.  If I’m not mistaken, it was intended to exist alongside other relics pertaining to the upholding of the Avatar cycle.  I don’t know how it could have ended up alone in a secluded cave.  Ah, but here is what I wanted to show you.” 

Sheng held up the stone slab which Lu Da could see was etched with what appeared to be early Water Tribe hieroglyphs.  “This is an ancient waterbending tablet, or bloodbending tablet I should say.  The techniques accounted here are dark and not for the faint of heart.  Most likely why such techniques were unofficially abolished long ago.  But I believe it was meant to accompany the scroll based on the words written here.  You see, this scroll was merely intended as a guide of sorts to a set of portals which can only be opened under very particular circumstances.  This,” he said, replacing the stone tablet back on the table, “is its one loophole.”

Lu Da stared down at the tablet.  He set his teeth.  How was he going to swipe a heavy chunk of stone from under their noses?

Master Sheng pocketed his journal and rolled up the scroll. 

“Thank you for all the trouble you took in bringing this to us.  The world owes you a debt of gratitude.  I’m sure you won’t mind if we hang onto the scroll now for safekeeping.”

“Oh, uh…”  Lu Da shifted, his eyes cutting sideward briefly.  “Well, I was really hoping I could keep it.  Collector that I am and all.”

“I’m sure you’d agree it belongs here at the College of the Ancients.  We can protect it, study it further, preserve its history.”

Lu Da hesitated and then gave a small nod.  “Yes, of course,” he conceded with a smile.  He had to be careful.  Push too hard and he could tip the scales, someone could grow suspicious.  It wasn’t really the scroll he needed anyway, just the words translated.

“Say, were you able to translate the scroll?  Perhaps I could just–”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to read it.”

His heartbeat lurched.  _Shit_. 

“Why not?”

The old man’s forehead creased deeply.  “This is a document of great magnitude, Tezek.  Its texts could prove disastrous if they were to fall into the wrong hands.  It was kept secret for a reason and secret it shall remain.  I am sorry.”

Lu Da swallowed but he forced a smile.  He nodded.

“You’re right.  I understand.”  He shoved his hands in his pockets and allowed his shoulders to fall a degree, making a point of looking at the floor.  “I wonder though…  I feel a bit silly for asking but, might you allow me to stay for another day or two?  I won’t get in your way.  I just find all your work here so fascinating.  It would be an honor for me to observe the scholars in their day to day.”

Master Sheng took in a breath, his mouth pulling to the side as he considered it.  “Well, it’s not very conventional…”  He trailed off, then sighed with a small smile.  “But, all right.  We would be happy to have you, especially after going through all the trouble in bringing us such a valuable relic.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

By evening, Lu Da’s ears were ringing from the quiet.  He spent the day shadowing scholars and strangled by boredom, the only sounds for hours the slow flipping of pages, soft footsteps, the scrape of dry papers sliding against each other that made his teeth grind.

He had a few running theories.  Maybe the scholars swore a vow of silence when they joined the college.  Maybe they were mute.  Maybe they all had some sort of mental illness.  What sane person would devote themselves to a life like this in the first place?

Or maybe they were just fucking with him and they’d all have a good laugh at his expense later.

“So, what did you think of your first day among the scholars?” Master Sheng asked as he walked Lu Da back to his room.

“It was… fascinating,” he managed.  “Though a little quieter than I’d imagined.”

“Our college is a very peaceful place.  Very disconnected from the troubles of this world.”

“But, I mean… do they ever talk?” 

Sheng made a soft sound between a breath and a laugh.  “Ah, I see.  Well, our scholars devote their lives to research and study.  Discussion is reserved for an appointed time once a week.” 

Lu Da thought that sounded absolutely terrible, but didn’t say so.  They stopped outside his room and Master Sheng smiled warmly. 

“Would you care to stay another day?  You would be more than welcome.”

Lu Da gritted his teeth behind a smile.  He would very much like to not stay for one more minute, but he couldn’t leave till he got what he came for.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble–” he feigned.

“None at all!  Rest well, Tezek.  I bid you goodnight.”

The two men exchanged a bow and then Lu Da opened his door and stepped halfway through, stopping to watch Sheng glide down the hallway.  He disappeared into another room at the far end just before a set of stairs.  Lu Da stepped into his room and closed the door softly behind him, leaning back against it.  He had through tomorrow to figure out a way to get what he needed.  And he’d be damned if he was sitting through an encore of this snafu if he could help it.

But one way or another, he wasn’t leaving here without that journal and stone tablet.

* * *

Matsu sat along the bar inside Chrysalis, nursing a drink and half watching the mass of bodies at the nightclub’s belly, sliding, rubbing, pressing up against each other shamelessly, undulating like a wave to the music.  A sweat-slicked, intoxicated wave.

His eyes scanned the dim edges of the nightclub, combing the faces for one that might stand out, might not belong.

_“They’re onto you, you know,” she’d said.  Azula._

_“Who?” Matsu had asked as he’d reached for the door, eyeing her beneath low-drawn brows._

_“The Concord Assembly.  I have it on good authority that they’ve tracked you down.  They’ll likely be waiting for you tonight at your naughty little vice.”_

_“Is that a note of jealousy I hear?” he scowled._

_“Please.”  Azula rolled her eyes hard.  “I don’t care how you get off.  You’re still going there tonight, in fact.”_

_“Why?  So I can get caught?”_

_“Exactly.”  She flashed a vulpine smile.  “You’re going to_ let _them capture you.  Let Zuko think he’s won something.  They’ll interrogate you._ You _will lie.  Make them look left, so to speak, I lead the rebels right.  Storm the city when they’re least expecting it.  Zuko’s reign will be the shortest in Fire Nation history, most fittingly.”_

_“Uh huh.  And what about me?”_

_“I’ll personally see that you’re set free.  You needn’t worry.”_

Matsu’s mouth tipped downward as he sat back and took another sip of his drink.  Azula could have kept it from him, of course, let the Assembly capture him and be done with it, dispose of him.  She would know that if he exposed their hideout, turned her in, he’d be jeopardizing the rebels’ success and thus Ozai’s chances of taking back control.  But Matsu trusted Azula as much as a rabbit did a fox.  She never did anything without ulterior motive. 

Thankfully, he was a quick learner.  And in the nearly two years they had been together, he’d become an expert in reading her little games.  And he knew how to play.

Someone stepped into his peripheral vision and Matsu turned to see a young woman leaning against the bar, trying to flag down the bartender.  He seemed to ignore her blatantly and she made a soft snort.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here, huh?” she quipped.  Then, after a pause, added, “Actually, don’t answer that.”  She shot him a wry smile.

The woman was attractive, with dark, sweeping lashes and silky black hair that framed her porcelain face.  Her close-fitting satin dress hugged her every curve.  Matsu returned her smile with a subtle curl of his mouth and turned back to the crowd.  On any other night, he may have offered to buy her a drink, but tonight he needed to keep his focus on the room.

Not that a member of the Concord Assembly would show up with a bright badge on their chest or a glaring announcement.  They’d likely be covert about it, try not to draw attention, get close to him and lure him out.

“This seat taken?”

Matsu looked up again to find the woman already sliding into the open stool beside him, an impish glimmer in her eyes.  He shrugged and quirked a brow.

“Help yourself,” he said, turning back to the room.

The bartender set a drink before her on the counter and she sighed, nodding her thanks.

“Finally,” she mumbled, taking a sip.  “So, you come here often?”

He gave a faint nod, finishing off his own drink and sliding it back on the counter.  “I do.”

“Thought so.  You have that at-home look of a regular.  Me, I’ve only been here one other time, a couple years ago – or, was it last year? – but my girlfriend insisted on dragging me out tonight.”

The talkative type, he thought with a frown.  Great. 

Matsu slid his eyes toward her but didn’t quite turn, hoping she’d take the hint.  He was in no mood to flirt or get to know her.  He had to stay focused.

_Unless…_

Matsu blinked and turned back to the girl and she flashed that puckish smile again.  There was something ever so slightly off about her.  A hint of determination, just an edge of resolve.  It seemed so unlikely, a gorgeous young woman like her here to arrest him on behalf of the Assembly.  But who better to send to him?  It was the perfect disguise.

“I’m Ami,” she said, angling her body toward him.  She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Matsu met her smile with a playful grin of his own and leaned toward her.  The Concord Assembly expected to catch him off guard.  They had no idea he was here waiting for them.  If he was to be led to his arrest, he’d at least have some fun.

They talked for a while and then danced for even longer, until finally Ami slid up against him, her lips to his ear.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” she said in a husky voice.

Matsu nodded.  She took him by the hand and he let her lead him through the throngs and out into the fresh night air.  No sooner had they exited than a group of guards surrounded him, Ami’s hand breaking from his as she stood back, crossed her arms.  He was right.

“Matsu Jin,” one of them said, clasping his hands forcefully behind his back.  “Fire Lord Zuko would like a word with you.  Several, in fact.”

The muffled sounds of the nightclub faded behind him as they shoved him forward and Matsu’s lips quirked in a nearly imperceptible smile.

* * *

As prince of the Fire Nation, Ozai had learned how to take up space.  He had never felt small, except here, in this palace, with his father, and despite years of practice, he felt himself shrinking into himself.  A dark figure approached, just a shadow against the licking wall of flame, smoldering red iron in hand.  All Ozai had ever wanted was to please his father and prove he was a worthy heir.  That he shared the same vision, could expand on and accomplish ten times what his father had if given the chance.

The figure finally emerged in the light.  His father’s face split in a ghastly grin, teeth filed to razor-sharp points, eyes black as ink spots on paper.  Ozai tried to call out, to plead with him not to do it.  His mouth formed the words but no sound would come, his voice paralyzed.  The bright red iron came down in a sickening hiss against his skin and Ozai seized and crumpled to the ground in a silent scream.

He opened his eyes, tears of pain escaping down his face, Azulon blurring as he towered above him.  His father opened his sickly smiling mouth to speak.  But it wasn’t his voice that came out.  It was many voices together, none of them familiar.  And they repeated only one phrase.

“Moon above, sun below.  Moon above, sun below…”

The seething iron came down again, this time against his arm, and as Ozai’s throat corded with another soundless scream as he looked down to see the blistering skin begin to peel back like burning paper, exposing muscle and tendon and sinew, layer after layer melting away to ash before his eyes, eating down to bone.

Ozai could feel the strangled scream rising as the palace and his father and the iron began to disintegrate, falling away before his eyes, and the sharp, scraping cry finally clawed up his throat in a roar.  He bowled over and clutched at his arm in agony, the horror still playing out behind his eyes.  But as he ran a hand over the skin there, he found it intact, unscathed.  Cold sweat slicked down his neck.  Ozai’s heart pounded in his chest, his lungs dragging in air, as he looked around.

The land was dark and barren.  Dead, twisted trees dotted the cracked earth, mountains like serrated teeth jutting up against the dark purple horizon.  Thunder rolled sullenly through heavy, roiling clouds, winking a murky violet with flickers of lightning.

This was different than the calm, innocuous place he always seemed to find himself.  Or maybe it was that _world_ that always found _him_.  Either way, Ozai knew he had never been here before.  And yet, there was an elusive familiarity in the air that he could not mistake.  It was a different part perhaps, or maybe an extension, but the same realm nonetheless.  Like a second skin, it was becoming part of him and he would know its nature anywhere.

A strange massive dome, like a miasma of murky light, funneled down from a ring of churning clouds above.  Flashes of purple lightning streaked its surface.  He felt oddly drawn to it, like an invisible thread spanned between them, reeling him in. 

Ozai started toward it.

The dome seemed almost alive somehow, as he came to stand before it.  Webbed and sinewy, pulsing almost like a heartbeat.  Through the rippling, opaque shell, Ozai could vaguely make out something dark drifting about inside.

“You’re different, aren’t you?”  A smooth, silken voice echoed from somewhere around him and Ozai tensed, looked around. 

“You don’t belong,” it continued.  “I can feel it. You aren’t like them.”  The sultry voice seemed to come from everywhere, shivering around him like bitter air.

Ozai pivoted slowly, eyes darting for the source.  “Who?” he asked.

“The ones who keep me trapped here.”

Ozai stilled and then blinked.  He looked back at the rippling dome.  The dark form shifted into a vague outline of a woman before dissipating again like a cloud of black smoke.  The voice, Ozai realized, was coming from inside.

“How am I different?” he asked, cautiously.

“Your energy.  It’s dark.  A black smudge in the light of this world.  It’s how you found me.”

“I didn’t _find_ you.  I don’t know how I got here.”

“Perhaps not intentionally, but your energy led you here all the same.  Darkness here is so rare, it’s like a magnet that way.  Like calls to like.”

Ozai frowned.  “Who are you?”

“Oh, I have many names and I have no name.  Names are unimportant.  But I know yours… Ozai.”

Ozai’s brows drew low and he tensed.  “How do you know me?”

“I know an awful lot about you.  I know you seek two powerful stones to open the portals that uphold the pillars of the universe and the Avatar cycle.  And I know you seek to destroy the Avatar.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“A person’s thoughts leave an imprint on their energy.  I can read it.  It’s not as glamorous as it seems, I’m afraid, and admittedly a bit limited and subjective, but it tells me enough.  I do find it strange that a living human aside from the Avatar should be able to enter the spirit world.”

Ozai’s chest tightened, his forehead knitting.  No, this was all just a recurring dream.  A persistent nightmare.  It couldn’t be possible.

“You seem surprised,” the voice lilted, “but deep down I think you already suspected it.  The question is, _how_ are you able to enter?”

“I don’t know,” he said at length.  “I can’t control it.  I go to sleep and sometimes it happens.”

“Then you need to _learn_ to control it.  You’ve been given this power for a reason, Ozai.  You must hone it, learn to wield it.”

“Why would I want to do that?” he snapped.  “This place is a _thorn_ in my side.  A glitch I’d rather fix and be done with.  I see no use of it for me.”

 _Unless…_  

Understanding gripped him like a vise and Ozai frowned deeper.  Unless her intent wasn’t about _him_.

“You said someone imprisoned you here,” he began guardedly.  “Who?  And _why_?”

“The very force you seek to destroy, in fact.  His name was Avatar Sanzen, an air nomad as irony would have it.  He and his allies, both earthly and spirit, fought to bind me here inside the veil centuries ago.  I simply wished to share my power with the worlds, to spread it and watch it grow, flourish.  The earthly realm is so dull and tedious.  What an incredible place it could be with just a touch of my power.  But the people feared me, the raw, overcoming beauty of my magic.  So, the Avatar and I didn’t quite see eye to eye on that vision.  It sounds to me like we’re on the same side.  Perhaps, if you would set me free, I could help you.”

Ozai let the idea steep for a moment.  Things might go quicker and easier with a powerful spirit at his aid.  On the other hand, unleashing a spirit into the world he knew nothing about, or whether he could even trust her, was hardly worth the risk.  Not when he already had a plan in motion.

“I’m not in the mood to babysit a spirit with a grudge, nor do I have the time to waste on this nonsense.”  The dark figure flickered inside, shifting from a woman to smoke, back into a woman.  “Just tell me how to get out of here.”

“I think I’ll let _you_ figure that out.  It’s time you learned.  If you change your mind, I’ll be here,” the voice crooned as the figure in the dome faded back into smoke.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The moon was riding high.  A fat, pearly waxing gibbous, just a day or two shy of full.  Katara stared up at it through the treetops, the thin lining of her sleeping bag the only cushion between her back and the rutted ground.  She always had trouble sleeping when the moon neared its apex.  But now, between her bonds forcing her to sleep at weird angles and the knobby forest floor beneath her and the way her mind churned like a river about to turn tide, it seemed all hope of sleep was lost tonight.

Katara had made it very clear that she would not be used for whatever Ozai was planning, not willingly at least.  It had been the utter truth, in the beginning, but as she’d said the words earlier they’d fallen flat, an empty promise.  Ozai said she had nothing left to fight for.  And she realized now, in the quiet dark, alone with her thoughts, that he was right.  Zuko, the entire reason she’d gotten herself into this mess in the first place, was officially and permanently out of reach.  There was no longer anything drawing her back to the city, to her life there. 

If she just relented and agreed to do whatever he asked, she could go free and unhurt in the end, rather than Ozai doing spirits-know-what with her in his wrath if she refused.  What _did_ she have to lose anymore?

Well, besides the last fragments of her self-respect, she thought with a grimace.  She still didn’t know what Ozai’s plan entailed or what he needed her to do.  But it involved bloodbending and that alone made her uneasy.  Whatever it was, if Ozai was going through this much trouble to see it through, it couldn’t be good.

She sighed deeply, wishing sleep would come and smother her restless mind.  Katara turned to look at Ozai, his chest rising and falling with the slow, even breathing of a deep sleep.  Envy pulsed bitter once through her.  The hours withered, night wasting away, and she was still very much awake. 

Katara watched as the moonlight traced shifting patterns on his face through the swaying leaves, accenting his chiseled features, the flawless cut of his cheekbones, his strong, squared jaw.  Her face warmed, studying him this close without his knowledge.  Striking as he was, Ozai was handsomer in sleep, all his angst and hardness smoothed out by dreams. 

Her heart sank, imagining what it must have been like for him.  The horror of growing up tortured repeatedly by his own father.  Watching him now, he looked almost… at peace. 

To his credit, she realized, Ozai could have been so much worse with her, considering his deplorable upbringing.  He’d had plenty of opportunities to force himself on her, could have taken advantage of her at any time, but he hadn’t.  He had fed her, seen to her thirst.  He hadn’t hurt her… well, other than when he’d slammed his hilt down on her head.  But even that wound he’d tended to with unexpected gentleness.

Ozai stirred slightly, his forehead creasing, and her breath hitched, afraid he’d open his eyes to find her staring at him.

But that wasn’t what happened.

What _did_ happen then rendered the former scenario preferable.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Wisps of black smoke curled and flitted inside the strange sphere but the woman didn’t appear again.  Ozai turned around, frowning, as he surveyed the land.  Thunder rumbled mournfully and dark clouds flickered over the stark, jagged mountains.

He closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples.  This was all far too strange to be real.  He needed to wake up.  He had to be dreaming.

Ozai dug his fingertips into his temples, his eyes squeezed shut.  He took a deep breath, willing himself to focus, to concentrate.  He wasn’t sure on what.  But there was something there, lurking, beneath the surface of his consciousness.  He could feel it.  Just beyond his reach, like a buried memory or the hazy remains of a dream after waking.  Something was there.  Maybe if he just reached down far enough, focused deep enough, he could force himself from this nightmare.

At first, nothing happened.  But then, the world seemed to slide around him, a sheet of cold silk against his skin, and then a soft jolt like the shock of static electricity.  Ozai’s eyes snapped open.  The eerie, barren place was gone, replaced by the one he now knew so well.  Innocuous grey-blue skies that stretched endlessly over a land of hills and trees and streams.  A soporific palate of greens, browns, greys.  Water murmured and voices hummed and Ozai shielded his mind against it. 

 _No_.  He had wanted to _escape_ this nightmare, not end up in a different part of it.  Just as he was about to try again, a figure materialized a short distance away in his peripheral vision.

Ozai turned and felt his blood pulse hot.  His eyes narrowed as he took a step back.  The figure visibly tensed, jutting a finger toward him, his face a contortion of shock and wrath.  And Ozai knew him instantly.  The lean body, now edging toward manhood, chest and shoulders filling out, but still very much a boy.  The shaved head. 

The arrow tattoos.

They stood locked in an intense glare a bare instant before the Avatar charged toward him, shouting something Ozai didn’t try to pick out.  Instead, he clamped his eyes shut, feeling and searching for anything, a way to propel himself away.  Something brushed against his consciousness and he reached for it and pulled, hard.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Katara felt the color drain from her face.

After the first time, she’d managed to convince herself that she had been dreaming.  It hadn’t happened since, so she’d assumed it had been just that.  A nightmare.

But now here she was again, watching in horror as Ozai’s body hovered off the ground, the middle of his chest glowing an ominous red.

Katara yelped and shuffled back awkwardly, breath bursting in and out of her chest.  She was about to kick him again, his stupid threats be damned, when his body suddenly dropped to the ground, glowing red extinguished, and Ozai gasped and bolted upright.

Katara expected him to look as terrified as she felt.  Instead, when he turned to her, he looked annoyed.  Like nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he growled.

Katara gaped.  “You were doing that– that– _thing_ again!” she stuttered.

“What _thing_?”

“That creepy, glowing, light as a feather stiff as a board thing.”

Ozai scoffed and glared harshly at her.  “It’s not as cute the second time around, girl,” he said in a low, rumbling voice, rising to his feet and towering over her.  “You’re lucky you didn’t kick me this time, as I’ve been merciful enough already.”

He stalked over to the satchel, grabbing a drink from the canteen.

“Yeah, well, before you say I was dreaming again, I’ll have you know was wide awake. I _know_ I was because I heard you mumbling something.  The moon and the sun, below, above, or something, but I _definitely_ wasn’t dreaming.”

Ozai stiffened.  He looked at her then and Katara saw something pass over his face.  Surprise.  Disbelief.  Fear?  He released a sharp breath and turned away again, shook his head.  After a moment he stood up, walking back to where she sat on the ground, scowling down at her.

Katara expected him to mock her, to make some disparaging remark.  Instead, he sat down, raking a hand through his silky dark hair.  He sat beside her in silence for a long while until, finally, he gave a deep sigh.

“No,” Ozai grumbled at last.  “I don’t think you were dreaming.”

Katara’s brows lifted.  “Okay…”  She trailed off, her mouth working for the words.  “Then… what is going on?”

Ozai shook his head faintly.  “I don’t know yet.”  Furrowed brows drew low as he stared off into the dark.  “But I think…”  He hesitated as his dour gaze found hers.

“I think I was in the spirit world.”


	16. A Strange, Ravenous Thing

**A/N: Praise be to all you wonderful readers and reviewers! Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

The veil between worlds shuddered as Aang tore himself from the spirit world and shot to his feet with a gasp. Dread and confusion and panic were spreading like cold through his chest as he tried to digest what he had just seen.

Ozai. In the spirit world.

He paced his bedroom, thoughts whirling like hurricane winds through his mind. No. It couldn't be true. The Avatar was the only living person who could do that.  _It couldn't be true, it couldn't…_

But, that strange darkness… Just moments before he had seen Ozai, it had begun to weave through the air again, the same chilling dark energy he'd experienced in the spirit world a few days ago. The one that had nearly suffocated him.

Nausea still gripped his stomach. Aang had managed to fight through it enough to register the shock and charge toward Ozai, but every second the darkness had threaded tighter through his veins, filling him further and leaving less of himself. It had been terrifying. He wasn't sure what might have happened if Ozai hadn't disappeared just then. Because when he did, the darkness departed instantly from the veil and released its choking grip on him. Dispersed like dust in the wind.

Aang released a shaky breath. He knew the dark energy had felt familiar.

And now he knew why.

It was Ozai's energy. Dismay wrung his gut as the realization set in. When he had taken away Ozai's firebending, when he had touched his energy with his own, nearly been consumed by it, a piece of Ozai must have stayed with him. It would explain why some ominous thing seemed to writhe to life inside him, drawn like a magnet, whenever that darkness filtered through the spirit world.

Aang stopped pacing, his eyes going wide.

If that were true, then a sliver of his energy must have stayed with Ozai. And now he was able to enter the spirit world.

_Oh, no…_

He had to tell Zuko. Had to alert the Fire Sages. Aang started for the door and stopped short. It was the middle of the night. He had been unable to sleep, had gone into the spirit world to relax his mind, but that didn't mean anyone else was awake at this hour. And Zuko was married now. It would be awkward, intruding on them like that. So Aang forced himself back into bed. It would have to wait a few more hours, till morning.

He tossed and turned, unable to find sleep through his flurry of thoughts. At last, when the first faint streaks of grey touched the sky Aang released a sharp breath, threw off the blankets, and jumped out of bed. It wasn't morning yet, but it was close enough and he couldn't wait any longer.

He whipped down the halls, his Avatar robe billowing behind him, and finally reached the door to Zuko's bedchamber. The two guards on either side stood taller and stiffened as he stalked toward them.

"I need to speak to Fire Lord Zuko," he said firmly.

The guards exchanged an uneasy sidelong glance. "The Fire Lord is sleeping, Avatar."

"I know, but it's urgent."

"Uh…" the first guard dithered. "Perhaps, we can send him to you first thing–"

"I need to speak to him  _now_ ," he said sharply.

The two men hesitated and one cleared his throat, his mouth forming a stiff line as he glanced at the floor.

"Of course, Avatar." The two men stepped aside with a tense bow and Aang opened the door and slipped through.

Weak light leaked through the cracks beneath the majestic window drapes, just enough for him to find his way to Zuko's bedside. Heat crawled over his skin as he found himself standing next to the married couple asleep in bed. There was an unpleasant tingling across the back of his neck and he took half a step back, beginning to question his decision to wake Zuko prematurely when the image of Ozai and the memory of that strangling darkness came rushing back. Aang squared his shoulders and reached out.

"Zuko," Aang whispered, nudging him. "Wake up." He tried again and Zuko groaned, rolling over. He cracked his eyes open and blinked as he registered Aang standing over him.

"Aang," he mumbled, rubbing at his face, "what– what are you doing here? What time is it?"

"I saw Ozai."

Zuko blinked rapidly, leaning up on his elbow. "What? Where?"

"In the spirit world."

A brief second of hesitation, and then Zuko rolled his eyes and fell back down into bed with a groan.

"Ugh, Aang. Go back to sleep."

"I'm serious, Zuko. I saw him."

He opened his sleep-worn eyes again with an incredulous look. "That's impossible."

"I  _know_."

A long, heavy look passed between them. Zuko glanced at Mai, still breathing softly in sleep. He sighed.

"Alright, fine. I'm up. Just don't wake up Mai."

Zuko dressed and sent a servant to fetch the Fire Sages as they headed for the war room. Aang explained in hushed whispers along the way, cutting off when a servant passed by too closely, about the new episode of darkness in the spirit world right before he saw Ozai. And what it all seemed to imply.

Zuko nodded at a guard who bowed and opened the door to the War Room and they passed through, stopping a few paces inside. Aang turned toward him and Zuko released a tight breath. They could speak freely now in private.

"So, you think my father actually absorbed some Avatar energy when you took his firebending?" Zuko asked bleakly. 

"That's my theory, yes."

"And you think you absorbed some of his energy too?"

Aang nodded. "But I haven't felt any different. Just when Ozai and I are in the spirit world at the same time."

"So, now you're linked to him in some dark, twisted way." Zuko closed his eyes and shook his head, leaning two hands against the back of a chair. "This isn't good."

"There's something else too," Aang continued. "It's hard to explain. But when I saw Ozai there, I had this weird feeling that I could sort of sense where his body was in the physical world–"

"What, seriously?" Zuko snapped his head up to look at him again. "You're just telling me this now? You don't think that  _maybe_  should have been the first thing you'd want to mention?"

"If you'd let me  _finish_. It's not as simple as all that. It's like trying to remember a dream. I can't put my finger on it or say where he is exactly, I just have this feeling that if I looked at a map–"

"Fire Lord. Avatar." Zuko and Aang looked up to see three Fire Sages filing into the War Room. "You called for us."

Zuko nodded. When he and Aang had recounted everything, the Sages shook their heads with grave expressions.

"This is serious indeed. But I'm afraid there is not much we can do until Ozai is captured."

"I know. But I think Aang was just saying something about that." Zuko raised an eyebrow at Aang and he cleared his throat.

"Right. Well, I was saying I had this weird feeling that I might be able to pinpoint where he was when I saw him if I could look at a map."

Zuko led him over to the War Table. A large world map spanned its length, along with a smaller, close-up map of the Fire Nation, both scattered with various marker flags. Aang studied the maps and chewed his lip.

At first, nothing jumped out at him. But he realized his eyes kept snagging on the same area of the Earth Kingdom and something in him felt drawn to it, like a tether pulling him.

"There," he said, pointing to a spot in the western Earth Kingdom. "I think he's in this area."

"You're sure?"

"Well, no. Honestly, I have no idea if this feeling is true or if it's madness. But it's worth a shot."

Zuko nodded. "All right. I'll send a messenger hawk to the Earth King immediately and have him focus a squadron of guards in that area."

The Fire Sages nodded and filed out, leaving Aang and Zuko bowed over the map.

"Maybe us being linked isn't  _all_  bad," Aang said when they were alone again. "If I can feel when he enters the spirit world and I really  _can_  sense his actual location, this could be the key in hunting him down."

"Right, but let's not get hasty. You said yourself that the energy felt overpowering. We can't afford to be careless. If something happens to you while you're in the spirit world, no one will be able to help you."

"I know," Aang said grimly, looking at the floor.

There was a long silence. Finally, Zuko turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's just hope this works."

* * *

Lu Da sat at a table in the library next to Master Sheng, watching the scholars silently leaf through books and manuscripts, scrawl things on paper he couldn't make out from where he was seated. He clasped his hands tightly beneath the table and forced himself to look interested when, really, he would just as soon have stabbed himself repeatedly with a rusty fork. Just a little longer, he reminded himself.

Lu Da had been planning to sneak into the library during the night, but there had been scholars about at all hours – maybe they really didn't sleep – and he had decided it was too risky trying to slink into Sheng's room while he slept anyway. He had one chance to do this right. If he were caught before he had both the stone tablet and the headmaster's journal, Ozai's plan would be in ruins. Not to mention what might happen to him. But time was running out, and making the decision to wait had not been easy. Lu Da simply had to cross his fingers that an opportunity would present itself.

And it seemed, as the halls began to sing with the rich, resonant pealing of a gong, that opportunity had made its grand entrance.

"It so happens that the weekly discussion I mentioned last night is taking place as we speak," Master Sheng said in a hushed voice as he stood, and Lu Da followed. Scholars filed from the library and down the hall in silent droves as the headmaster led him out into the foyer.

"You'll understand if we don't invite you to join. Observing the scholars' routine is one thing, but the subjects we research and discuss here are quite restricted. As such, I'm afraid the library is off limits until we return. Please, make yourself comfortable by the fire. We won't be but a half hour."

Lu Da nodded warmly and watched Sheng disappear down the hall. He waited just a bit, craning his neck to make sure no one else was about.

And then he dashed quietly down the opposite hall. Past his room to Sheng's door just before the stairs and he already had the lockpick ready. It scraped in the keyhole and then there was a soft click and Lu Da opened the door, slipping quickly inside and shutting it behind him.

His eyes jumped around the room. Sheng hadn't had his journal on him today, which meant he left it somewhere when not in use. The logical place was his quarters. But the room was a mess. He had expected a man like that to lead a tidier existence. How was he to find anything in this clutter? Where did he even start?

Lu Da walked briskly to the nightstand beside the bed and fingered a stack of books. Not there. He darted to the bookshelf at the far wall and skimmed it quickly but saw nothing that resembled the headmaster's journal. He turned, scanning the room hastily before heading to the long dresser opposite the bed.

Papers and worn books were piled haphazardly on top. He leafed through one pile, then another. Lu Da released a tight sigh as he started on the last. And there he found it, lying beneath a stack of papers. He snatched it up, careful to put the papers back as they were and made for the door, flicking through the journal to double check for the translation when his stomach dropped.

The page he needed had been ripped out. Shit. Did Sheng suspect he might try to take it? He threw the journal back on the dresser, his eyes darting around the room, coming to land on the nightstand again. He stalked over and wrenched open the drawer, his heart stopping for a beat.

There it was. On top of a heap of rubbish in the man's nightstand drawer. He swiped it and shoved it into his pocket as he ran for the door, pausing to make sure no one was approaching before he slipped back out.

The stone halls were quiet and empty still. Lu Da raced to his room and snatched up his crossbow and satchel, bolting as quietly as possible toward the library. All he needed now was the stone tablet and he could get the hell out of here. Where had Sheng retrieved it from that day?

He beelined for the back-left corner of the library where Sheng had led him. The shelves there held many old, strange items and more than one stone tablet it seemed. Lu Da cursed again. Why was nothing ever easy?

He picked up the first and promptly replaced it. Not it. Not the second one either. Or the third. All three had archaic words he didn't recognize but not waterbending glyphs. He passed over the fourth – not the right shape – and finally recognized the fifth.

Waterbending symbols. This was it. He took the heavy tablet from the shelf and placed it in the satchel, pausing to put the torn-out page in with it. He zipped it closed, threw it over his shoulder, and turned to come face to face with Master Sheng and several other scholars. Lu Da's heart leapt into his chest and he jumped back, nocking an arrow and cocking his crossbow one swift motion.

"We adjourned early today, so as not to leave our guest unoccupied for too long," Sheng began bitterly. "But I can see now that my trust in you was sorely misplaced. I should have heeded my instincts that first night and bid you farewell."

A muscle tensed in his jaw. "I'm sorry," Lu Da grumbled. "But I need this tablet."

"You didn't just stumble upon that scroll, did you? You're planning to use it." Sheng shook his head grimly, his brows knitting. "I beg you to reconsider."

"Get out of my way." Lu Da set his teeth and trained his weapon on him.

Sheng raised his hands slightly. "Will you really shoot at the unarmed?"

"That's up to  _you_. Let me go."

Their eyes met for a long, tense stretch until finally Sheng released a tight sigh.

"Very well. We are presently ill equipped to stop you. But the trek down the mountain is treacherous, as you know, and our messenger hawks are swift. You will not escape the guards that will be waiting. Give it back now, and we will call it bygones."

"I can't do that," he snarled.

"Then you have chosen your fate."

Sheng grimaced and took a slow, reluctant step back and the frightened scholars parted to either side to let him pass. Lu Da kept his crossbow aimed at them as he did and then stalked briskly out the library door, down the hall, and into the foyer.

He was met with a chorus of gasps and startled faces as palpable fear spread like wildfire through the swarm of bodies.

"It's all right!" Sheng called out from behind him. "Everyone remain calm. Just let him through."

Lu Da pivoted slowly, keeping his bow steady, as he made for the exit.

"Ready a messenger hawk, the swiftest one," he heard the headmaster command and two men scurried off down the hall. Lu Da caught Sheng's disillusioned gaze in the last seconds before he reached the door.

"You're not going to get away," Sheng vowed with a stern shake of his head.

"We'll see," he said gruffly. And then he turned and barged out through the arching doorway, a gust of wind slamming it shut behind him.

The cold sliced at his face as he sprinted down the curving stone stairs two, three at a time, kicking up frost and clumps of earth as he hauled ass down the mountain path, crossbow and satchel jouncing at his back. He was barely a fraction of the way down when he heard a piercing shriek above him and Lu Da looked up to see a large bird soar past, a leather parcel strapped to its back.

Messenger hawk. Dammit. Lu Da tore faster down the narrow, worn road. Bitter wind howled in his ears, breath sawing in and out of his lungs, but he knew there was no way he could reach the bottom before the guards were alerted. They would be waiting for him, just like Sheng said.

Lu Da slowed and looked around. The only safe way down the mountain was the path and that's where they would be waiting. Which left only one other option. He would have to change direction and scale the steep, unforgiving mountainside.

He swore. There wasn't a terrible enough curse in Agni's black hell for what he wanted to call Ozai. But he would be sure to come up with something on his way down.

Lu Da gritted his teeth and took a sharp turn off the path, running until he'd left it far behind. The ground began to slant, angling further and further still, until finally he was forced to slow his pace. Grudgingly, he braced himself as he began the nearly vertical descent down, grasping first at tree branches and exposed roots, and later rocky knobs and fissures to steady himself.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and temples despite the chill. On his way up the mountain, he had been able to avoid looking down for the most part. But now, as the cliffside grew more vertical with every step, as he searched for footholds and crevices to grasp onto, glimpsing the yawning expanse of Earth Kingdom far below was inevitable. His stomach rolled, bile rising in his throat, and he was afraid he might vomit right there.

Lu Da wrapped one hand tightly around the breached root of a crooked tree, the other around a cold fist of stone until his knuckles went white. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath, let it out slowly as he struggled to remain in control. He could do this. He had been through far worse before. Though admittedly, none had been complicated by a crippling fear of heights.

His muscles were burning, his arms trembling as he continued down the rockface. Past the halfway point now. He could do this. The air was growing milder and the midday sun bore down harshly against his neck. Lu Da risked a glance down just enough to find the next handhold when the satchel slipped from his shoulder. He grunted and jerked his arm up to catch it but the sudden motion threw him off balance.

One foot slipped, pebbles raining down below. Lu Da grappled for purchase, his fingernails splintering and bloody as he clawed at the cliffside, feeling for another handhold. He skimmed the edge of a crevice and his curses turned to prayers as a chunk of mountain crumbled away under his other foot, tumbling down the sheer slope.

He hung by a single hand, his body dangling over a dizzying plunge. His heart hammered in his chest. It was true, what they said. His life really did flash before his eyes. Lu Da wasn't ready to die. He still had to so much left to do, so much to atone for.

He could feel the shale splintering under his weight, his trembling grip slipping over loose gravel. Another chunk of rock came loose beneath his wilting grasp. And Lu Da went down with it.

* * *

The door to the throne room swung open. Zuko frowned and walked down the dais toward the chained young man being led in between two palace guards.

"Hey, Zuko," he said with a lazy smile. One of the guards jerked the shackles tight.

"You will address the Fire Lord with the proper respect–"

Zuko held up a hand, but nodded appreciatively to the guards.

"Leave us."

The men wavered briefly but obeyed, the chains clinking as they slackened where they clasped his wrists. They each gave a regal bow and departed, boots echoing in the yawning chamber, the door closing with a soft, resounding click. Zuko crossed his arms and studied the prisoner.

"Matsu," he said at length. "It's been a long time."

"It has. I'd ask how you've been but, well…" his tongue clicked. "Rumors travel fast." Matsu smirked and Zuko glared back. "So, what's all this about? These chains really necessary?"

Zuko stalked slowly up to him until they stood eye to eye.

"I want to know what the hell is going on between you and Katara," he scowled. "Her  _boyfriend_? How did  _that_  happen?"

"Well, Zuko, when two people are attracted to each other–"

"No, asshole," he snapped. "I mean, how did she get caught up with you?"

Matsu sighed. "Still got that stick up your ass, I see. If you must know, we met at Chrysalis a while back."

"Katara, at Chrysalis?" Zuko snorted. "I don't think so."

"She was upset. I'll let  _you_  guess why. I bought her a drink, the rest is history. Seriously," he scoffed, "is this really why I'm here?"

Zuko crossed his arms and shifted on his feet. "I'm sure you're aware, but Katara's gone missing. There are some suspicious circumstances surrounding her disappearance. You're going to tell me everything you know leading up to it."

"Wait, hold on." Matsu's brows drew up. "Missing? Since when?"

"A couple weeks ago." Zuko hesitated and studied him. "You mean you didn't know?"

"I'm not her keeper, Zuko," Matsu grumbled.

Zuko tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "You didn't notice your girlfriend suddenly wasn't around? Pretty terrible partner."

"Yeah, well, Katara and I had a little fight, we weren't talking much."

He set his jaw, shook his head. "I'm not buying it. There's something you're not telling me." Zuko frowned deeper, his eyes trained sharply on the other man. But Matsu looked unfazed as ever, meeting his gaze with unflinching coolness. Zuko paced away and then back quickly to shove a finger in Matsu's face. "You had no right to get involved with her."

"Whoa, cool your panties, Zuko. Last I heard, you guys were officially done. And anyway, you're married now. Pretty sure you don't get to care who your ex gets involved with."

"She's not just my ex," Zuko huffed, standing straighter. "She's my friend. And I get to care when I hear she's secretly wrapped up with a mangy rebel."

Matsu let out a soft, short breath with a weak smile, his eyes sliding down to the floor.

"Yes, I  _do_  know about that," Zuko said as Matsu met his gaze again. "And that you're largely spearheading the rebel movement." He shook his head with a glower and a sharp exhale. "Seriously, Matsu? So, what, you'd rather have Azula on the throne? Are you insane? I mean, you must be, you were engaged to my sister, but I would have thought two years with her would have been more than enough to see–"

Matsu laughed. "Now there's something we can agree on. Your sister's batshit, man, and has no place anywhere near the throne, we both know that."

Understanding hit him then like a fist to the gut. "So… my father, then."

Matsu shrugged. "It's nothing personal. I always liked you, Zuko. You'd have been a great brother-in-law. I just don't share your political ideology."

"And you don't have any idea what might have led to Katara's disappearance?" Zuko asked, refocusing the conversation.

"No, I don't," he said flatly. "But I think I can offer something else of value."

Zuko's mouth tipped downward and he crossed his arms. "And what might that be?"

A crooked smile perched on Matsu's lips.

"I can give you Azula."

A sudden cold feeling expanded in Zuko's core as his eyes went wide, and then heat flushed through his body, his fists clenching.

"So, Azula is in hiding with the rebels," he rasped. "I knew it."

"And leading the charge, of course."

Zuko cursed under his breath. He fixed his narrowed eyes on Matsu for a long moment.

"Why would you just give her away? She's one of your own, the forerunner no less."

"Like I said before, she has no place anywhere near the throne. But if she has her way, that's exactly where she'll end up."

Zuko chewed his lip, then caught himself and stood up taller.

"And I suppose you want something in return."

Matsu shrugged casually. "Just my freedom. Let me go and she's yours."

His expression soured. "Why, so you can go back to your little rebel hideout and make plans to overthrow me?"

"Well, anything sounds bad if you say it with that attitude."

Zuko's nostrils flared and his muscles tensed. He knew Matsu was goading him but the anger still rose like heat on his skin. He took in a breath and steadied himself.

"You know, you're one of the only people who never fell prey to Azula's wiles. I always liked that about you. You always saw through her manipulation, were the only one crazy enough to actually call her out on it. If you'd been anyone else, Azula would have ended you faster than you could blink. But I think secretly she admired you for your imperviousness to her…" Zuko took a slow step, stopping inches from his face. "But I gotta say, I like you just a  _little_ less now that you're trying to depose me."

"Once again, nothing personal. And hey, you'll have until your father returns to try and beat us. Who knows, might still have a fair chance at it – though our numbers are growing."

"Shut up," he spat. "You're lucky I don't have you executed right now for treason. I'd cut the glib bullshit if I were you."

Matsu's eyes rolled closed and returned to Zuko's a moment later. A tense silence stretched until finally Matsu spoke.

"Look, I'm just gonna be honest, Zuko. I'm here, not because your little Assembly caught me off guard – cute girl, by the way – but because Azula was one step ahead, per usual. She knew they were coming for me. She  _wanted_  you to arrest me. I agreed to lie to you, distract you, divert your attention while she leads the rebels in an attack on the capital tomorrow."

"What?!" Zuko barked, grinding his teeth.

"Wait. What Azula  _doesn't_  know is that's not why I'm here at all. I agreed to be arrested, but not to help her. I'm going to use her own ploy against her for once, watch it explode magnificently in her face. I want her gone. Out of the picture. And I'm willing to give her to you, expose every detail of her plan so you'll be ready to catch her –  _if_  you're willing to cut your losses and let me go. The choice is yours."

Deep lines formed between his brows as Zuko shook his head at the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Matsu had known which of them he'd choose, of course. He'd been counting on it. It was the only reason he had agreed to Azula's plan. And Zuko had to admit, having the upper hand on Azula and turning her own plan back on her would be incredibly gratifying. But letting Matsu go was only prolonging the inevitable. Matsu was right. Their numbers were growing.

"You know as well as I do that Azula's almost always one step ahead of the game," Matsu continued. "I'm giving you a rare opportunity to catch her by surprise. If you don't take her down now, you won't get another chance. And neither will I."

Zuko frowned up at him. He wasn't an idiot. Matsu was still very much a force to be reckoned with, in both combat and cunning. But, the choice was an obvious one. If nothing else, Azula's capture would give him time, weaken the rebels' morale, at least briefly, and eliminate a devastating wild card. At last, against his will, Zuko gave a grim nod.

"All right," the gravelly words scraped out. "Tell me everything you know."

* * *

Leaves shifted in a breeze, branches rustling. The hair lifted from Katara's dewy neck and she breathed in the generous rush of cool air, the fresh scent of green growing things. She had begun to fear the oppressive heat wave would never stop. Like this seemingly infinite forest. She had forgotten how much of the Earth Kingdom was covered in it. It appeared the heat, at least, was coming to an end, though Ozai had yet to put his tunic back on. Katara kept her eyes fixedly away from that and focused instead on the questions still stirring in her mind.

What a sad childhood the man had endured. Physical and emotional abuse. Potentially an illegitimate son. Eclipsed by his brother's glory, always struggling to prove his worth to the father that despised him, to no avail.

So much about the terrible way Ozai had turned out was beginning to make sense. His distaste and abuse of his own son. The devastating way he had escalated the war. For the first time, he had stood in no one's shadow. He was being seen. And he must have sought to prove to his late father as much as to himself what he was capable of.

But where was his mother during those early years? She couldn't have been blind to what was happening.

Dead twigs crunched under her foot, amplified in the quiet between them. Ozai had exchanged barely a word with her since that morning, for no other reason she could gather than broody Ozai just being broody. Silence is a strange, ravenous thing. The more you feed it, the thicker it grows, heavier, sometimes squeezing tight enough to suffocate. It was uncomfortable enough as it was, but breaking a long, undisturbed silence with Ozai was its own shade of awkward.

Katara cleared her throat and slid a glance at him. His eyes skated sideward but didn't quite look at her.

"Can I ask you a question again?" she ventured at last. "A personal one?"

"Better than anyone I've known," Ozai grumbled.

Katara grimaced but ignored the jab.

"I was wondering about your mother. Surely you didn't have two evil parents. Didn't she try to offset your father's abuse? Tender hugs, loving words. You know, stuff mothers do?"

He released a soft, short exhale through his nose. "My mother was so burnt out by my father, so preoccupied with avoiding her own abuse, that she had nothing left to give me."

"So, she just… what? Let it happen?" A twig snapped under his foot. He didn't respond. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity," Ozai said with a bitter twist of his mouth.

"She could have been the antidote, if she'd only tried." Katara shook her head. "Do you resent her for that?" she asked, her eyes sliding to him and back to the sea of trees ahead in the same moment.

She waited for an answer. A woodpecker tapped at a broken tree. It had split down the middle, its branches barren of leaves.

"I would," she said finally, without looking at him. "For ghosting when, maybe, she could have saved you."

Ozai soured, his eyes cutting sharply toward her. "Don't play therapist with me. You don't know me, girl. And you would be wise to try to keep it that way."

"I don't think anyone's ever known you," she said plainly.

Silence again. An insect hummed past her ear.

"What about your wife–?"

The words cut off in her throat, her gut twisting tight. Katara knew the moment they'd formed on her lips that she'd made a mistake. Crossed a line. But it was too late.

Ozai stopped short, Katara a pace after him. He skewered her with a scathing look. A scorching hot finger down her spine.

"What  _about_  her?" he growled in a low voice, stepping toward her. His golden eyes tracked across her skin, his intensity uncomfortable. "Go on," he goaded, his tone deep, threatening. "Since you're so very interested."

The words hung suspended on her parted lips, but against her better judgment, she heard them slip out, hushed, cautious. "If you ever let anyone in, even a fraction, it would have been her, wouldn't it?"

His brows drew low over darkened eyes and a muscle tensed in his jaw.

"I'm  _done_  playing your little get-to-know-you-game," he warned in a deep, rumbling pitch before turning to walk on. 

Katara frowned at his back, her mouth twisting. "Right. You did banish her, I guess, so maybe that answers that question–"

Ozai's face pinched in outrage. He turned and took a swift, sudden step toward her, seizing her shoulders and shoving her back against a tree, hard. Katara sucked in a breath.

" _You_ … are on  _dangerous_  ground, peasant." The growl ripped up his throat, through his teeth. Ozai towered over her, dwarfing her with his height and the bulk of his body.

Katara's heart hammered in her chest. He loomed closer and tightened his merciless grip, the muscles in his arms and shoulders cording. His eyes burned a path over her skin.

"Let me ask  _you_  a question," he snarled. "An answer for an answer." His voice slipped into that silky, dark tone, hard and cool as stone. "Did you enjoy being my worthless son's little whore?" The words were like venom and she felt their bitter poison leaching into her heart. His lips curled in a malicious sneer. "Quite an exhibitionist you must be to take pleasure in degrading yourself for all the Fire Nation to see."

Her nostrils flared and heat rushed to her cheeks. Katara opened her mouth to argue, but she realized with a sick knotting in her gut that he was right. She had brought so much shame on herself. Her face twisted. There was no clever retort, and she scowled up at him.

"And in the end, he still wouldn't have you. I hope it was worth it, the death of your dignity." His gaze loosened a degree into that subtle smirk, searching her face like a pickpocket, trying to turn something out. But Katara said nothing, wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wanted to shove him away but her wrists were bound and so she snorted and turned her head firmly aside.

His cold sneer returned to a scowl as Ozai pushed off of her and retreated two steps, her shoulders throbbing where he had gripped her. Her eyes followed him, met his seething glower.

"Your little game's not quite so fun now, is it?" His tone dripped with bitter disdain.

Katara's scowl loosened into a frown, her brows tipping up, as it dawned on her. She had genuinely upset him. Ozai, the unfeeling, impervious wall of a man. An odd twinge of guilt pricked her stomach. She tried to push the feeling away. She shouldn't care. The man had done unspeakably horrible things. But as she held his curdling gaze, a small part of her felt strangely sorry.

"I didn't mean any harm. I was just…" She trailed off, her eyes darting away and then back, the last of her anger cooling with a small sigh. "Curious, I guess." Katara shrugged faintly, her voice smaller than she'd intended. "Have you never let your walls down for  _anyone_? I guess I can't blame you after what your father did to you. But… didn't that ever get tiring, holding everyone close to you at arm's length?"

Ozai frowned deeper, forcing lines between his brows, but the venom in his gaze dissolved slightly. His hands curled tight at his sides and slackened again. He didn't respond to her question, instead looked away with a long tense sigh. But when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, the edge softer.

"That's enough, girl. For now."

Katara blinked.  _For now._

Ozai's gaze broke away and she registered the hint with a fluttering in her stomach. He wasn't shutting her down completely. Instead, he was leaving the door cracked – a whisper of permission, a subtle invitation. She could take it or leave it.

The idea gave her pause. She should shut the door now, lock it, throw away the key. Abandon all thought. But that seed of curiosity had grown roots, snaking like a weed through her mind and she knew, deep down, despite herself, which she would choose.

Her pulse lifted at the thought. After everything, could he really be willing to open up to  _her_?

Ozai took her by the arm and bore her forward as silence rushed in to fill the space between them.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai swatted a fly away, his jaw clenching. His eyes cut toward the girl at his side, a hand wrapped firmly around her slender arm. She had been thankfully quiet since they had begun walking again, but Ozai had come to learn that, with her, that quiet would be short lived.

He had intended simply to soften the waterbender toward him, as Lu Da had suggested. To make things easier for him by manipulating her sympathy. The first time he had been open with her, it had been rousing and unsettling and strangely liberating to tell the truth. But now it felt dangerous, exposed. He had never expected the girl to take such a perverse interest, to touch the rotted corpse of his past exhumed and ask for more, and now he was having doubts on which of them the weapon of truth was turned.

When someone knows your story, they know  _you_. And they can hurt you, use it against you. He cursed himself for his premature judgment of her, for the way his plan had backfired, for allowing his better judgment to slip to a pair of pretty sapphire eyes.

But the girl handled the skeletons of his past with grace and genuine curiosity. There had been no hint of deceit on her face, no flicker of duplicity. And if he were honest, there was something mildly seductive about the idea of this girl, his captive, wanting to know him, troubling as it was.

He wasn't sure which troubled him more. The fact that she wanted to explore his inner demons and understand him… or the fact that he might be willing to let her.

A large, weather-worn sign was nailed to a birch tree up ahead, its bark peeling away in giant white curls. Partially hidden by a bough that swayed in the breeze, it was not until they were nearly upon it that Ozai could read it clearly.

 _STAY OUT_  
_TURN BACK NOW_  
_HOPE IS LOST ON ALL_  
_WHO ENTER THE BONE ROAD_

"Wait. The Bone Road?!" the waterbender snapped. "I thought that farmer warned us to stay  _away_  from there!"

Ozai frowned but didn't look at her. "It's the quickest, most direct way to get where we're going."

The girl choked out a pithy laugh and stopped short. "You're seriously still considering it after what that guy said? Just take a detour, it's a difference of, what, a few days?"

Ozai walked on. "A week, at least," he argued.

"Who cares?" she implored at his back. "Nothing you're trying to accomplish is going to matter if we're  _dead_."

Ozai turned and stalked back toward her. "Then it's a very good thing I don't intend to die," he growled, stopping to loom inches before her and scowling a warning. He grasped her arm and forced her onward. "It's a small risk, worth taking. If you see anyone, keep a wide berth, walk confidently, and avoid eye contact. It's that simple. Mind our business and no one should bother us."

They walked silently for several minutes and then Ozai added, "If it makes you feel better, I could unbind your hands." The waterbender looked up at him cautiously and he smirked. "When you agree to help me."

The girl flashed him a thunderous look and tore her eyes away with a snort. If Ozai didn't know better, he might have believed her resistance was genuine. But the girl had nothing left to fight for now. And her growing interest in him, in his past, while troubling and unexpected, proved his plan was working. He could see the conflicted knit of her brow, the wavering hardness in her expression as he watched her. Her defiance toward him was breaking down, whether she realized it or not.

Ozai was not expecting her to say yes, of course. Not yet. But he had planted the seed days ago. He'd seen it take root behind her eyes. Watched as the news of Zuko's wedding nurtured it further. Now, he simply had to wait for it to grow.

* * *

Mai stared down at the plate of braised bison-bear, her mouth twisting. It was her favorite dish and she always looked forward to the chef preparing it. But tonight, as the fragrant steam wafted up from the bowl, her stomach turned.

"…rebels are mobilizing…"

"…recent attack on a southern village…"

The conversation faded in and out as Mai tried to keep her composure. She felt bile rising in her throat and pushed the dish away. Her chair scraped as she stood a little too quickly, sweat beading on her forehead, and all eyes turned to her. Zuko gazed up with a puzzled frown.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied, shaking her head. "I just… I'm not very hungry. I think I'll just lie down for a while."

She didn't wait for a response, just turned and headed for the bedchamber, her shoes clicking softly on the polished bamboo floor. Her stomach was roiling, the scent of that bison-bear following her, burned into her olfactory nerve and she swallowed back a gag.

What was wrong with her? She loved that dish. Why had it smelled so revolting to her tonight?

It occurred to her then, as Mai swung open the door of the bedchamber, that she'd lost her appetite similarly the night before, and the morning before last. Just a strange nausea that had begun to grip her at odd times, particularly around strong-smelling foods.

She barely made it to the commode before she vomited. The last few times, she'd simply felt ill, like she  _could_  vomit maybe, but she hadn't. This time was worse. Was there an illness going around? She hadn't heard of anything and surely if she was sick, Zuko would have gotten a touch of it by now, as much time as they had spent in the bedroom lately.

Mai drew in a breath and dragged herself up to standing. She wiped her mouth and checked herself in the mirror before returning to dinner, but then paused. Blinked. She tilted her head.

Had her boobs gotten bigger?

She brought her hands up, cupped her breasts. Bigger  _and_  sore.

Her eyes went wide as her thoughts started spinning. When was her last period? She hadn't been keeping track. But now that she'd thought of it, Mai was fairly certain she was late.

The door opened and Zuko appeared, standing in the doorway of their grand master bathroom. He met her eyes in the mirror.

"Hey," he said, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"That's the second night you skipped out on dinner."

She turned to face him, watched as his expression shifted from mild concern to apprehension as he studied her.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

Mai let out a soft breath, a trace of a smile forming on her lips.

"I think I'm pregnant."


	17. Red Sky at Morning

**A/N: As always, thank you for reading and reviewing!  I hope you enjoy this update. :)**

* * *

Pain splintered, lancing through every inch of his body.  Lu Da groaned and opened his eyes.  The world was a smear of blackened violet.  He blinked and tried to focus, squinting until the blurred lines all hardened into sharp ones.

Dusk had nearly succumbed to night.  He was sprawled across a cold outcropping of stone where the mountain began to slope wider.  The steep rockface towered above him and he couldn’t tell in the darkness where he had fallen from, but the pain told him it was far.  The shrill wail of a jackal wolf rang out nearby, and then another, closer.  Too close.  Lu Da tried to move and a fresh wave of pain split through him.

He was still alive, so that was something.  Statistically, he should have died at least twice now since embarking on this charming little jaunt with Ozai.  Lu Da wasn’t sure if he was just really lucky or really unlucky, but either way it seemed the spirits weren’t through with him yet.  His chances of living to a ripe old age were looking unfortunately excellent.

The temperature had plummeted and Lu Da shivered.  His tunic clung to his skin, cold and sticky and damp with clotted blood.  He clenched his teeth and managed to sit up slowly, pulling his heavy cloak closed with one arm.  The other hung limp at his side, throbbing where his shoulder had dislocated.  His breath caught and released in a shallow exhale, a small puff of steam in the dark.  He must have broken at least one rib, judging from the knifing pain there. 

Grimacing, Lu Da grasped the wrist of his injured arm and pulled it, slowly, straight out in front of him.  He winced, hissing sharply through clenched teeth.  He wouldn’t get far with a dislocated shoulder.  Of course, the arm wouldn’t be much use to him either way right now – the pain from the injury would limit mobility – but if he didn’t treat it, he could injure it further and the added pain would only slow him down.

The joint relocated with a soft jolt and a short, searing burst of pain and finally Lu Da slumped and expelled a shuddering breath.

A harsh, throaty growl rumbled just out of sight and Lu Da became aware of several sets of glinting yellow eyes looming within the shadows.  The pack had surrounded him finally, their hungry jaws gnashing and slavering at the scent of blood.  He grunted as he picked up a rock and threw it.  Panting and heavy footfalls cut through the darkness, but the glowing eyes reappeared in an instant.

Lu Da forced himself to his feet with a strangled groan, staggering and catching himself as he adjusted to standing.  His ankle spasmed sharply.  He must have sprained it in the fall, but miraculously it seemed he hadn’t broken anything more than a couple ribs.  Carefully, he bent down and shouldered his crossbow and satchel with his good arm and started gingerly downward.

The slope from here was broader, more forgiving, but still treacherous, especially in his given state.  The moon was a day from full and cast his path in a gentle, white glow.  Light enough to see by, dark enough that it graciously obscured the dizzying plunge far below.  Shale slid under his foot and Lu Da grabbed at a low-hanging bough, tensing up like a flicked sphincter.  _Fuck all of this_.  He had heard of people who actually enjoyed walking in the mountains.  They did it for fun.  Called it hiking.

Those people were psychopaths.

The yellow eyes winked in the shadows, snarls trailing him down the mountain, inching dangerously close now.  They knew a weakened prey when they saw one.  Slow, injured, bleeding.  Easy spoils.  Cold sweat slicked down his neck as he stopped briefly to rest, raking air in through gritted teeth, his body screaming.  There came a low rumble close behind him and Lu Da glanced back to see a bristly, black figure skulking toward him in the shadows.

Lu Da braced himself against the trunk of a tree, a prickling pine branch scraping his face, as he awkwardly unshouldered his crossbow and hoisted it into position with his good arm.  He released a shaky breath, steadying his aim as best he could.  “Alright, baby girl,” he whispered sweetly, thumbing the smooth wooden stock, “don’t let me down.”  The arrow fired.

A sharp yelp pierced the darkness and the beast scuttled away into the shadows, sets of glinting eyes drawing back with a fuss.  That should buy him a little space, at least.

It must have been midnight when Lu Da finally reached the foot of the White Spire.  The end of this fucking nightmare.  He was flooded so full of relief he could have kissed the ground but instead he started walking.

It was a good three hours of unbroken pace before he arrived in Guo Yang, a small, dingy town in various states of decline.  The main street was lined with shanty buildings, a dull shade of their former selves.  Dodgy looking characters collected in the deeper shadows, where the moonlight didn’t reach.  A scantily clad woman with a snaggle-toothed grin sidled toward him, purring and calling out as he passed.  His footsteps dragged, his limbs impossibly heavy, bleary eyes searching for their designated meeting spot.

Finally, he spotted a bleak stretch of low buildings, bland, forgettable.  A grungy hotel was sandwiched between them, the kind that didn’t seem too eager to draw the law’s attention.  There it was.  Lu Da started across the street, wrapping a hand around the strap of his crossbow.

He imagined Ozai might already be here, waiting for him.  It was certainly possible he had been waiting a good while at that.  The perfect image of patience, no doubt.  He had a mind to bide his time, make Ozai wait just a little longer for all the trouble he’d gone through, but that would not bode well for either of them now.  The quicker they moved on, the better.

Withered, overgrown hedges flanked the base of the double-story building, paint peeling away from the dirty siding.  Lu Da pulled on the weathered door and it screeched open as he stepped inside.

A reedy man leaned back at a desk, one foot crossed over his knee.  Dark, greasy hair hung long and flaccid around his narrow face, a sharply hooked nose protruding from the center like a vulture’s beak.  He sat forward as Lu Da entered, lips curling over his yellowed teeth.

“What can I do for you?” he croaked, his voice thin and rough as gravel.

“I need a room.” 

Lu Da tensed inwardly as the man’s eyes skimmed him head to foot.  There was not a subtle grain in his appearance.  A big ass scar covering one side of his face.  His clothing torn and bloody.  Ornate tattoos winding over his arms, neck, and head, a mohawk cutting down the middle.  Perhaps he could shave the latter, but little good that would do.  He hoped word of the heist at the college had not spread yet.

“You been put through the mill, looks like.  What happened?”

“A _room_ , if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, sure,” the man said, holding both hands up as he stood.  He plucked a key from a panel of hooks on the wall.  “Don’t wanna talk about it, I get it.  You’re in good company, friend.  Everyone here has something they don’t wanna talk about.”  He winked, dangling the key from his hand with a crooked smirk.  “Room two-oh-three.  Second floor, third door down.”

Lu Da took it and fished out two coins in return.  He eyed the man cagily, turning the key between his calloused fingers as he hesitated.

“Someone I’m supposed to be meeting here,” he risked finally.  “Tall, handsome man, long dark hair, slender beard, too smug for his own good with a pretty, darker-skinned, blue-eyed girl.  Seen anyone like that?”

“Hmm.”  The man stroked his long, tapered face, lips pulling theatrically to the side.  “I see so many faces around here.  My memory, it’s a bit foggy.  Perhaps just a _little_ more coin will help me remember.”

Lu Da’s face pinched in a scowl.  It would be reckless to the threaten the man.  He couldn’t risk any trouble.  He was entirely dependent on this louse for anonymity.  And the asshole knew it too.  The seedy innkeeper smirked as Lu Da reached into his coin purse and dropped three more shillings into his waiting hand.

“Ah, yes, I believe that did the trick.”  Lu Da’s hand curled tight around the jagged key as he waited for him to go on.  “I don’t recall seeing anyone matching those descriptions, I’m afraid, but if I do, I will be sure to alert you.”

The blood pulsed hot in his clenched fist.  “Be sure that you do,” he rumbled before stalking back out the creaking door.

Lu Da made a sharp left and trudged up the rickety outside stairwell, slotting the key in the third door down.  It ground open over a warped frame and a burst of old musty air hit him in the face.  He coughed once, locking the door behind him, and dropped the heavy satchel and crossbow to the floor with a deep sigh.  Lu Da stared around the room for a long moment, met at last with a feeble measure of repose.  It wasn’t a nice room.  Hardly even a decent room.  But at least he was on level ground. 

He rubbed at his face and crawled into the lumpy bed, staring up at the room’s low, mottled ceiling.  His eyes slid closed and, at last, he felt himself dragged down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was an hour or so before sunrise.  Aang stood next to Zuko in the underground bunker, Mai seated on the shallow dais, hands clasped tight in her lap, while Matsu waited in chains between two guards.  Aang was readying to join Zuko’s motley crew of an army waiting atop a hill outside the capital.  Water Tribe warriors and waterbenders, earthbenders, firebenders, and foot soldiers, all prepared to fight as one.

“The lookout’s in place?” Zuko asked.

Azek, a young Fire Nation man, had been appointed as their lookout.  A nonbender, but exceptionally swift on his feet.  If anything were to go wrong, Azek was to take off and report to Zuko immediately.

“Yes,” Aang nodded.  “Everyone’s in position.” 

Matsu had informed them of Azula’s plan to march her army of rebels up from the south shortly before dawn.  Their path would take them north, up a steep hill toward the capital, and that was where Zuko’s army was waiting to head them off, just out of the rebels’ line of sight, beyond the knoll of the hilltop.

“Remember, Azula will likely be at the head,” Matsu chimed in.

“Aang, let the soldiers deal with the rebels while you and Toph focus on taking her down.  Don’t waste a second.”  Zuko’s mouth pressed into a grim line.  “But do your best to bring her back alive.”

Aang nodded.  He knew Zuko must hate being caged in the bunker while the rest of them fought for their country.  Hated that he would miss the look on his sister’s face when she realized she’d played.  When she found an army waiting to intercept them before they could get near the city.  But allowing Zuko to fight was too great a risk.  If something were to happen to him out there, they would be leaving the palace door wide open.  Mai’s claim to the throne would be tenuous on her own, barely Fire Lady for a week.  They couldn’t risk it.

“It’s almost time.  I better get going,” Aang said, squaring his shoulders.  A solemn look passed between them but neither of them said anything more as Aang turned and walked through the heavy iron door, closing it with a resounding clang, and out into the cool, small hours of morning. 

The horizon was red, a warm streak of blood on the indigo sky.  It wouldn’t be long now.  Aang took off on a wind current, soaring until he saw the giant, dark smudge over the land, the mass of soldiers hiding beyond the crest of the hilltop, just out of view from the slope below.  Benders in the front, armed soldiers bringing up the rear.  Aang landed down next to where Toph stood waiting on the front line.

“Is it just me, or does this all seem a little too easy?” Toph said as Aang’s eyes scoured the land beneath the glowing slash of crimson.  “Nothing is ever easy when it comes to Azula.  You really think we can trust Matsu?”

Aang blinked and narrowed his eyes, focusing on the vast spread of terrain below.  A great, dark stain was snaking over the landscape and closing in toward them quickly.  A dart of apprehension speared his gut and Aang stood taller, brows knitting.

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

He glanced up at Azek, perched high up in a nearby tree.  The boy nodded and Aang nodded back, flitting silently up into an adjacent tree to get a better view from where their army was stationed further back.  The plan was to wait until Azula’s troops neared the top of the hill and then he would attack, signaling their troops to follow. 

Aang waited in the tree and soon the ominous thunder of footsteps rumbled over the land, growing louder, louder as the army approached until he could nearly feel the shudder of it through his body.  They were starting up slope now, a shadowy, indistinct wave in the faint morning light, but even now Aang could see that their army outnumbered Azula’s.  They marched up the hill, past the halfway point and Aang took a deep breath in, closing his eyes, and released it with control.

The river of his chi flowed stronger as he leaned into the vast pool of cosmic energy of the Avatar spirit.  He breathed deep and evenly, channeling his focus as he waited for the rebels to near the crest of the hill, and finally his eyes snapped open, energy rushing into him like a breaking dam and igniting his tattoos in a brilliant glow of white.  Aang flatted his hand palm up, and shot his arm upward with force, sending a massive section of earth skyward under the rebel army’s feet.  Screams shattered the tense quiet as bodies went flying, bowling down hoards of enemy soldiers in their wake.

Aang didn’t waste a second.  He catapulted himself from the tree and shot off a hurricane gust of wind and a sweeping arc of fire as a chorus of shouts rose up behind him, their army charging down the hill to meet the rebels.  And in the blaze, he saw her briefly.  Azula.  Caught her shifting expression – shock, disbelief, rage – as the scene exploded around them.

The armies clashed in the budding light of dawn, elements flying, weapons clanging, bloodied bodies falling beneath a stampede of heavy boots.  Azula sent a blast of lightning through the air that split into multiple directions and Aang was ready for it.  He braced himself for the current and let it pass through him and then out again, sending it sizzling back to her.  Fear and wrath cut across her face as she dodged it, narrowly, and then suddenly the earth beneath her reached up and wrapped around her, encasing her from the neck down in a cocoon of solid rock.

Azula gnashed her teeth, glaring at them with black fury.  Toph smirked and stomped the ground and the cocoon slid toward her as Aang mowed down a section of rebels with a powerful blast of water before landing down next to her.  He shouted over the fighting and the obscenities Azula was lashing at them.

“Keep her away from the rebels, Toph, and make sure she doesn’t–”

A sudden wave of panicking screams was swelling from somewhere in the sea of soldiers, growing louder, more frantic.  Aang turned, trying to find the source but there was only an endless swarm of thrashing bodies before him.  He snapped around to look up at Azek.

The boy’s eyes were widened to whites, his expression twisted in shock and horror.  Aang sprung up into the tree beside him.

“What’s going on?” he called over the chaos.

Azek’s shuddering gaze was glued on the armies down below.  “One of our soldiers just disintegrated!” he shouted back, panic fraying his voice.  “Crumbled to a pile of ash!”

* * *

The forest was still heavy with the cool, crisp smell of night as Ozai woke, the overhead branches a maze of shadows against the paling sky.  Fat, grey clouds peaked through the treetops, their rolling bellies edged with gold.

Ozai sat up and elbowed the waterbender.  She groaned and cracked her eyes open in a grimace.

“Get up, we have to get going.”

She groaned again, dragging herself awkwardly upright as he fished out two rice cakes, a handful of strawberries, and a hunk of cured meat, breaking it in half.  He fed one portion to her as he wolfed down his own, then stood and retrieved his black tunic from the satchel and shrugged it on.  The girl cast him a brief, sidelong glance, something like relief softening her features, and Ozai smirked faintly.  A refreshing cool front had rushed in overnight, extinguishing the last of the stifling heat, for the moment at least, as the weather in the Earth Kingdom was notoriously fickle and summer was still well in its prime.

Ozai packed up the sleeping bags and untied the waterbender’s legs.  He checked that her wrists were secure and then helped her stand as he slung the large satchel over his shoulder and they started walking.  Their coarser, wild path soon broke onto a wide, worn trail that snaked through the forest.

“How long is the Bone Road?” the girl asked after a while, casting an uneasy glance over her shoulder.

“Several miles,” was all he said.  He half expected her to press it but was relieved when she went quiet again.

Huge, gnarled roots split the ground, twisting like arthritic fingers over their path.  Up ahead, Ozai could see the first in a series of towering rocks that formed the aspect of a massive dragon spine for which the Bone Road was named.  The tallest rock, some distance ahead in the center of the formation, broke through the top of the soaring green canopy.  As his eyes traced it skyward, his gaze caught on several dark shapes gliding in circles just above the foliage.  Vultures, he realized.  Circling slowly over the shivering treetops a little further on.  They must have spotted some sick, dying animal nearby.

“I have a bad feeling,” the girl spoke at last, quietly.  “In the Water Tribes, they say that feeling is a warning from the spirits–”

Ozai laughed, curt and scornful.  “Primitive superstitious drivel dressed up as intuition.  If it hadn’t been for that farmer, you’d think nothing of it.”  In his periphery, he faintly registered the girl’s sour expression. 

“Yeah, that sign we saw was just a bunch of _superstitious drivel_ too,” she prickled, mimicking his tone.  “Someone definitely just put it there for fun.”

“Be quiet, waterbender,” he growled, gripping her arm tighter and frowning down at her as they walked.  “If I have to listen to any more of this–”

A twig cracked loudly somewhere up ahead and the girl flinched beneath his grasp as Ozai looked up to see a small group of men coming toward them.  Ozai dropped his gaze slightly and increased the width between them but maintained a steady, assertive posture. 

The four men were speaking in low tones amongst themselves but as they became aware of Ozai’s presence, their voices grew hushed and then fell away altogether.  In the edge of his vision, Ozai could see one of them studying him beneath drawn brows.  He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the path just ahead of him as they passed by.  None of the men said a word until they were well behind them, their voices returning to a low thrum, and before long they were swallowed by the forest.

The two of them walked on in silence, but it was only a short while later before the heavy thud of footfalls came closer along the worn path.  This time, several men and women came into view, driving ostrich horses packed to the brim with parcels.  They were stone-faced, mouths and brows pinched tightly, and didn’t seem to care for their presence one way or another, paying them no heed at all, not even so much as a sideward glance.  

Ozai scoffed silently.  This was what the farmer would have him lose a week of his time to avoid?  Ridiculous.

“You see?” he sneered when they were out of range.  “All that panic and alarm for nothing.”

The girl was silent but her mouth tipped firmly downward.  A solitary crow cackled just out of sight.

They ventured further into the tangled heart of the Bone Road.  A loose spiderweb trailed across his face and Ozai swatted it away.  The forest was growing denser as they went, snuffing out much of the weak morning light and shrouding the forest in a dark, unnerving quiet, broken only occasionally by the mournful call of a bird or the rustling of an animal in the brush.

A black flutter of wings at the edge of the road up ahead caught his attention.  As they drew closer a rank, pungent smell drifted on a breeze, tinged with the sickening sweet scent of rot.  Two men had been tied to the base of a tree, doused in a slurry of waste and animal guts.  A pair of crows were pecking at the decomposing flesh, at the empty eye sockets, their beaks bloody with bits of skin and hair.  Ozai’s skin tightened and the girl took in a soft, sharp breath.  She drew back, her pace slowing, and Ozai found her arm again, driving her forward.  They had to be nearing the halfway point by now.  They just needed to keep moving.

As they marched onward, Ozai tried to shake the sense of something off.  He was never one to be easily alarmed and yet a faint thread of warning had begun pulling tight, gathering in the corners of his mind.  Despite himself, he began to wonder if he might have been too hasty dismissing the warnings.

His foot made contact with something beneath a thick mass of forest debris and sent it reeling across the path.  It rolled to a stop and a yawning human skull gaped back at them, a thin layer of putrescent tissue still stretched over one side.  The girl snorted and wrenched her arm from his grasp, turning sharply to him and flashing a look that could freeze the blood in his veins.

“You _see_?” she hissed, parroting his earlier words, fear lancing through the anger on her face.  “First those bodies and now _this_.  I told you I had a bad feeling, but you didn’t–”

A distant hoot of laughter cut through the forest.  Ozai looked up just as a large band of rough-looking characters was rounding a bend in the path, sauntering toward them with easy strides and vulpine smiles.  At least fifteen of them, mostly men and a few women, all boasting large, menacing weapons and dressed in the same attire – black tunics emblazoned with a grey skull and red handprint in the center.

Ozai quickly, casually grasped her arm and took up step again before they could draw suspicion.

“I really don’t like this,” the girl whispered as they walked.  “Those guys look different, scarier than the others.”

He tightened his grip.  “Stop talking and don’t make eye contact.”

Ozai could feel her muscles wound tight beneath his hold.  As they grew closer, several of the men and women cast them fleeting looks in between their droll banter but one tall man in particular continued to study them for a beat too long.  Ozai spared him a brief, caustic glance in a show of strength and tipped his chin down, speaking just loud enough for the girl to hear.

“Walk confidently,” he breathed out.

The group of them began to pass by on the other side of the crooked road and Ozai forced his breath steady, the hair on his neck prickling beneath the sets of scouring of eyes.  It was a painfully long, uneasy stretch before the last of them finally slid from view behind him, their easy chatter unbroken, but Ozai’s skin was crawling with that unmistakable sense of being watched.  He took in a hitching breath.  If they could just round that bend, slip out of sight, out of mind…

The waterbender’s foot turned over a pinecone and sent it rattling through the brush.  Ozai clenched his teeth and grabbed her arm to steady her as his gaze cut sideward.  The men were slowing, turning to look at them.  Ozai cursed inwardly and pressed the girl forward, but he knew it was already too late.  They’d drawn attention.

“You there.  Hold up,” a voice called behind him. 

Ozai exhaled tightly, his eyes sliding shut.  If he didn’t stop, they’d draw suspicion and risked being attacked without question.  So, reluctantly, he turned.  The lot of them were sizing him up, as the man who had been eyeing them before sauntered forward with a cool, confident gate.

He was taller up close, meeting Ozai eye to eye, though much leaner with far less bulk.  Even so, he carried himself in a manner that suggested that had never been a problem for him.  His cool, brown eyes flicked to the side as he nodded at the waterbender.

“What’s all this?  Why is she tied up?”

“She’s in transport,” Ozai grumbled.  “I’m delivering her to a buyer.  And he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”  The words came out effortlessly.  Lying was a skill made easy by habit.

“Flying solo?  No backup?  Not too smart in this industry.”  The man cocked his head, stroking his chin in an embellished pondering pose.  “What faction are you under?  I don’t see any identifying marks.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes and the man gave a cold, hard smirk.  “Actually, it is.  We patrol this avenue.  Gotta keep things in check.  _You_ , though…”  He shook his head, striding closer.  “You don’t look like you belong here, and yet you look… familiar.  Have I robbed you before?”

“If you had you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

The man barked a laughed and turned to his comrades.  “He’s a cocky one, isn’t he?”  He turned back to Ozai then and stepped into him, a gleam of something wild, volatile in his fever-eyed grin.  “The cocky ones are my favorite.  So much more satisfying when they beg for mercy.” 

A glint of metal caught the light as he brought a swift knife up to Ozai’s neck, letting the point drag over his skin, and Ozai clenched his jaw tightly.  The man studied him with narrowed eyes.

“I never forget a face.  And I _know_ that I’ve seen yours before.  Now, tell me.”  He pressed the tip dangerously into the soft skin beneath his jaw and Ozai’s nostrils flared.  “Why is that?”

Ozai glowered darkly.  In a smooth motion, he unshouldered his bag and shoved it into the man’s chest.

“Is this what you want?” he snarled.  “Just take it and leave.  I’m on a schedule.”

The man took the bag and stepped back with a theatrical sigh, glancing at his ruffians.  “Well, that’s disappointing.  I was hoping we were in for a good old-fashioned struggle.” 

He rummaged through the bag for a moment, grimacing at the modest coin purse and tossing it to one of his men.  He pulled out a cucumber, a vine of strawberries, a jaw of persimmons, dropping them to the ground.  His shoulders slumped with a frown, the bag dangling from his hand.

“You think you can pawn me off with this rubbish?” he snapped, throwing it back at Ozai’s feet.  His eyes skated to the waterbender and held there for a moment too long.  Beside him, Ozai could see her stiffen.  “Tell you what,” he said at length.  “We’ll take this little morsel off your hands and call it even.”

“You’re not going to touch her,” he rumbled.

The thief gave a solitary chuckle.  “A man dedicated to the job.  I can respect that.”  He stepped closely into Ozai’s face, placing a hand on his shoulder, the other holding the knife to his neck.  He let his lips graze over his ear suggestively and Ozai’s nostrils flared, his hands curling to white-knuckled fists as the man spoke in a low, sultry tone.  “But I’m afraid your buyer is going to be disappointed today.”

The man backed up and flashed him a wink before making a move toward the girl.  Ozai stepped in front of him, white hot rage pulsing through his veins as he met the towering man head to head. 

“The girl’s not going anywhere,” he seethed.  “Don’t make me say it again.”

The thief studied him briefly with an amused smirk.  He crossed his arms, rocking back on his heels as his gaze shifted between them for several moments.  His head tipped to the side.

“You seem awfully protective, Daddy-o,” he said finally as he slowly began to circle them.  “You sure you weren’t secretly planning on keeping her for yourself?  I mean, what man could blame you?  Just look at that caramel skin.  That graceful figure.”  His fingers dragged up her arm, over her neck as he walked and the waterbender cringed sharply away.   “Though she’s a little young for you, isn’t she?”  He circled back around and stopped before Ozai again, winking with a click of his tongue. “Kinky.  I like it.”

Ozai glared darkly as the man stepped into him again, metal glinting, the dagger biting sharply into his neck.  He waved his free hand and two men appeared before the waterbender. 

“Give your buyer my thanks,” he sneered as they seized her by the arms and legs, began dragging her away, and the girl screamed, thrashing against them.

The man’s smirking eyes skimmed sideward, eyeing the girl for the barest instant.  And Ozai didn’t waste it.

He brought a swift foot up into the man’s stomach with force, sent him staggering back with a grunt, and before he could retaliate, Ozai drove the heel of his hand against the base of his nose, snapping cartilage and driving it into his brain.

Shouts went up, weapons sang, and the scene erupted into chaos.  Ozai wrenched his sword from its hilt and lunged for the two men dragging the girl away.  The blade hissed through the air, slicing across the neck of the first, a curtain of blood streaming down his throat, and before the second man could swing his weapon, Ozai’s sword slashed down through his shoulder, slicing his arm clean off.

Ozai locked eyes with the shaken waterbender, the barest instant, no more than half a breath, but understanding passed between them like a current.  His blade sliced, the ropes around her hands dropped, and the girl’s arms shot to her sides.

Water burst up from the ground, down from the tree tops, green withering to dust as razor spikes of ice hissed through the air, screams piercing as they sunk into flesh.  A man and woman went flying, while another froze against his will, eyes wide, agony twisting his face as he crumpled to the ground.

Ozai cut through two other men and took the head off another, looking up in time to make eye contact with a man and woman snatching his coin purse off the ground.  Ozai lunged but he was too late, they tore off through the trees as a sharp glint of light streaked his peripheral vision. 

He spun just in time to duck away from a blade, but the tip caught him across his sword arm.  He clutched a hand over the wound, grinding his teeth and sliding the weapon to his other hand in time to deflect another attack, then another and another.  The woman was lightning fast, swinging her sword faster than he could parry and the weapon nicked his cheek, narrowly missing his eye.

Ozai cursed and darted back.  This time when she lunged, he blocked her blade with his and brought his foot up under her ribcage and kicked.  The woman lost her footing as she reeled back and Ozai sprung forward, burying his blade in her heart.

He barely had time to turn before narrowly evading another attack, cutting down the man with a lightning stroke of steel.  Blood and sweat slicked his skin as he glanced at the waterbender.  Two more thugs went flying into a tree and she fought off a third with a sharpened water whip, spearing him through.  But three more large men sprung on her from behind and took her to the ground.

Ozai charged toward them, dragging one to his feet and running him through, kicking another off her, and the girl managed to scramble out from the under the last when Ozai felt a sharp, forceful impact at his back, raging into a searing heat.  He looked down.

The tip of a wide, serrated blade jutted from his sternum.  Ozai swayed slightly, blinking down at the dark, warm stain quickly blooming on his black tunic.  He tried to breathe and tasted blood, as the other man sprang forward and plunged his massive broadsword straight through the front of his chest, pain tearing through his ribcage.  Ozai staggered back.

Screams echoed around him but his vision was tunneling and he felt far away.  The world slanted, tipping sharply on its side.

And Ozai hit the ground. 

* * *

The tip of the sun breached the horizon, blazing fiery light over the land damp with dew and blood, glancing off armor and weapons.

“What do you mean _ash_?!” Aang shouted over the roar of combat.  “How?!”

“I don’t know!” Azek shrieked back.  “One minute he was there and the next he just fell apart.”

Aang’s eyes raked over the sea of shouting soldiers that was parting wildly around a tall woman.  She took a swift stomping step forward and shot her arm out, but where Aang had expected fire there was nothing.  Just empty space. 

Then a spark lit out of nowhere upon a soldier’s arm, as though his own skin had self-combusted.  It flared and spread ravenously in every direction, devouring layers of flesh and muscle and bone, reducing it to dust in its wake.  The man’s screams split the air as it consumed him, the edges of his skin peeling away like burning paper, strangling his cries as it raged up his neck, his face twisting into a gruesome grin that quickly pulled away to reveal the skull beneath before all that was left of him crumbled to the ground.

“What just happened?!” Toph shrieked from down below.  “Tell me my feet are playing tricks on me and I didn’t just see what I thought I saw!”

Aang propelled himself back to the ground, nausea wringing his stomach.  “Whatever that thing is, we need to take her down, now!”

A deep, fracturing sound erupted from behind them and Aang spun around in time to see Azula break out of the cocoon, stone fragments scattering in the air.

“So easily distracted for a _master_ earthbender,” she jeered as lightning crackled and split in several directions.  Aang sent a bolt shooting back at her but she leapt out of range, darting down the hill while shooting off massive plumes of blue flame, calling out to her troops to retreat.

“Toph, stop her!” Aang roared before tearing his focus back to the woman.

She was already firing off another shot, aimed at a Water Tribe warrior.  This time though, the man dodged just as she finished her move.  Aang took off on a wind current toward her but watched in horror as a spark caught on the warrior’s head, incinerating him from the skull down, reducing him to dust in a matter of seconds.

Aang sucked in a breath, his stomach twisting.  No.  He had seen the man dart out of her line of fire in time.  Logically, the spark should have gone up on the soldier behind him or fizzled out completely.  It shouldn’t have caught on him.

_Unless._

A cold weight sunk in his gut.  Unless, once finished, her attack could somehow track her target.

The woman drew her arm back, preparing to lunge again when Aang shot a giant chunk of rock toward her, catching her in the chest and throwing her back into a line of rebel troops, bowling them over.  She dragged herself to her feet again, snarling through gritted teeth.  Azula shouted retreat again and the woman glanced behind her to see Toph send the earth up around Azula’s feet once more, trapping her there.

With a deep breath, the woman trained a dangerous look on Toph and readied to attack.

“No!” Aang screamed, blasting himself toward his friend on a gale.  “Toph, get out of there!”

He collided with the earthbender and tore her away a sheer second before the woman stomped and shot her arm forward.  They crashed down several feet away as Azula’s earth shackles crumbled away again.  The woman fell into step behind her as the heaving swarm of rebels followed Azula down the hillside, like metal dust to a magnet.

“Let them go!” Aang called to his army.  “We don’t need anyone else turning to ash today.”  He released the cosmic energy, felt it ebbing away as the glow of his tattoos faded out.

“She got away.”  Toph scowled downward, her hands curled tight.  “I had her, twice, and she got away.”

Aang put a hand on her shoulder.  “But _you’re_ alive.  If I hadn’t tackled you, you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

“What _was_ that thing?  No bender I’ve ever encountered could do what she did.”

“I don’t know.”  He grimaced, shaking his head and his brows drew low.  “But I think we need to have a little chat with Matsu.”

Aang scanned the crowd and located Hakoda helping an injured Fire Nation soldier to his feet.  He gestured Toph to follow as he flew over to him and Sokka came running up beside him as he landed.

“What happened on the front lines?” Sokka asked, breathless.  “I heard a bunch of screaming, saw our men scrambling back, terrified.”

“We’ll talk in a minute.  Hakoda, can you help lead the troops back to the capital and usher the injured to the infirmary?  I have to talk to Zuko.”

“Already on it,” Hakoda nodded.

“Sokka, you and Toph come with me.”

They raced back to the bunker, where Azek had arrived shortly before.  It was clear from the way Zuko had Matsu up against the wall, lifting him by the collar of his tunic and snarling inches from his face that Azek had already told him.

“I didn’t know, I swear!” Matsu shouted.

“Bullshit!” Zuko growled.

“Zuko, they’re back,” Mai interrupted, nodding as Aang, Toph, and Sokka briskly approached.

Zuko turned and eyed them a moment before his face crumpled in dismay.  The wind rushed from his chest, drawing his shoulders in as his hold slackened on Matsu’s tunic.

“Don’t tell me…”

“We lost her,” Aang said tightly.  “We lost Azula, all because of that… whatever that thing was that Matsu _conveniently_ left out.”

“You guys, seriously.  I wanted you to capture Azula as much as you did, why would I leave something like that out if I knew about it?”

“I find it awfully difficult to believe you knew _nothing_ about something this big,” Aang scowled.

“No, I–”  His words cut short.  Finally, Matsu let out a sharp exhale and closed his eyes.  “I mean, okay, I overheard Azula talking about experiments being done on rebel volunteers, ones who are benders.  But I didn’t think they were close enough–”

“Shit…” Toph said under her breath, raking a hand through her hair as Aang pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“What _kind_ of experiments?” Zuko snarled through his teeth, tightening his grip again.

“They’ve been mining some kind of mineral ore – cagrium, I think they said – and refining it into a drug they call Taint, testing it on willing participants.  It somehow twists their innate bending ability into some monstrous version of itself.”

“And you’re just mentioning this _now_?!”

“I had no reason to mention it before, _Zuko_.  You didn’t think I was gonna give you anything more than you needed to catch Azula?  And as far as I knew they were still in the preliminary phase.”

“Where are they conducting these experiments?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are these cagrium deposits?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“I think you’re lying,” Zuko growled in his face.

“I’m not.”

Zuko snorted, shoving him hard one last time against the wall before releasing him sharply.  Matsu’s chains clanked against the metal bunker as he half-slid down the wall. 

“If you’re going to be so utterly worthless, I’m not going to waste my time on you.  A wave of my hand and my guards will haul your ass out to be executed.  Honestly, I’m starting to think making you a public example would render you more useful to me.”

“I don’t know!  I swear!”

“Drag him back to prison!” Zuko barked, slicing an arm through the air.  “Make sure to be rough about it.  You better be ready to talk later.”

Chains rattled as the guards seized Matsu’s arms and yanked him forward, out the heavy iron door.  Mai walked over to stand next to a seething Zuko, placing a hand on his shoulder.  He softened slightly at her touch.

“We have to stop these experiments before more of these freaks are turned loose,” she said.

“Right,” Toph said, “but how do we do that when we don’t know where they’re conducting them?”

Zuko straightened.  “The cagrium deposits.  Azek,” he said, turning to the younger boy still standing a few feet away, “you’re fast and you know how to be subtle.  I want you and two of your fastest comrades to go scouting for these deposits.  If we can locate those, we may be able to track down where they’re conducting their experiments.”

* * *

Two final bodies thudded to the ground somewhere nearby.  Ozai struggled to breathe, choking on blood.  There was a shuddering gasp as the girl dropped beside him, panicked words strung under her breath, her hands ghosting over the pool of dark red spreading over his tunic.

Her voice shook.  “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to take them out.”

The blades scraped out of his body and his vision went white.  Ozai wanted to scream but he could only groan through tightly clenched teeth, his mind and body devoured by pain.

She dragged the blood-heavy tunic up his chest and he could hear the shock in her breath.  She didn’t need to say it.  He already knew.

A fatal blow. 

He cursed the spirits, his muscles cording in agony.  Every breath was a thousand knives slicing him through.  He felt hands come down on his mangled chest and his eyelids cracked open.  The waterbender’s face was drawn in concentration, her hands drifting over different parts of his chest.

“…bone and punctured internal organs…” he heard her say, though his mind was slipping in and out.  Ozai could feel the blood spilling freely from the wound in his chest, blooming heavy in a curtain of red from his back, his life draining out into the ground around him.  His eyes slid shut as he struggled for air. 

There was a biting shock of cold, like ice against his clammy skin, and he cracked his eyes again to see the fluorescent blue glow of water on his chest.  The cold wrapped around him, reached down into him until it was snaking through his ruined chest, gnawing like frostbite on the tattered threads of tissue.  Suddenly, the pain that had been excruciating was an all-consuming agony, blacking out the corners of his vision, ringing in his ears, the world sliding out of focus.  Searing, stinging cold clashed through him, raking his insides, and a tortured groan ripped up his throat and out through his clenched teeth. 

Darkness was grasping now, from pain or blood loss or both, wrapping its cold, heavy claws around him, dragging him under, burying him, but somewhere a voice was calling out, a thin, brittle thread, tethering him there.

“Focus on me,” he heard her say, distantly.  “Look at my eyes.”

Ozai tried to, cerulean blue smearing, going in and out of his vision.  The world was fading, fading, narrowing to just her face leaning over him.  His eyes felt so heavy, his body a lead weight.  He struggled against the relentless darkness, forced his eyes open, focusing on her face, on the emotions tangled there.  _Exhaustion.  Shock.  Worry…?_

For him…  That he was dying.

There was no room in his weary mind to think on it and against his will his eyes slid closed with the ebbing, labored strain of his mangled heart, its stuttering rhythm.

“I thought you were stronger than this.”  Her voice was far away, an echo.  “Are you going to let those jerks win?  Fight it.”

He tried but his body was no longer his and his mind, his tired mind, was sinking down, down…

 _Give in_ , it said.  Life was pouring from his gaping chest and he was so very tired–

“Show me you’re not weak,” she rasped, her fingers curling where her hands pressed firmly against his chest.  “Did you come all this way just to lose like this?”

A spark stirred and fizzled out in the same instant.  Ozai tried to rise to the bait.  Tried to grasp hold of her voice, like a hand reaching down to pull him from the abyss, but the darkness was unyielding and he was slipping…

“Almost there.  Just hold on.  Fight back.”

Another strangled groan grated out through his teeth.  Suddenly, the bitter, piercing cold was dissolving into a spreading heat, a sickly feverish heat, the intensity of it near blistering, as the fibers of ragged flesh began to stretch, brush against each other, converging, threading back together slowly.

“Just focus on my voice.  If you can hear me, say my name.” 

_Waterbender…_

_Waterbender…_

_Waterbender…_

“Katara…” 

The word was a breath of air against his lips and he felt himself leaning into her words, her light.  His eyes were closed, sweat slicking the hair at his temples, beading on his forehead.  But, slowly, the sweltering heat was beginning to ebb.  The darkness was receding, gradually releasing its deathly grip, his heart recovering a weak, even rhythm.

Another sensation began flooding through him then in its wake, so intense that it nearly took his breath away.  He struggled to make sense of it but his shattered mind was spinning and he felt delirious, his body overwhelmed with a sudden chemical flood of light and beauty and pleasure coursing through his veins.  Ozai drew a sharp breath and opened his eyes to see the girl kneeling next to him, her brow creased.  She held his gaze.

His fingertips pulsed with the desire to reach out and touch her.  Ozai curled his hands against the unwanted urge but could not wrench his eyes from hers.  He could feel his pupils dilating with that strange chemical rush, pulsing in warm waves through his veins, and her eyes flicked over his face as though trying to read the expression there.  Ozai balled his fists tight, forced his eyes shut.

The girl brought one hand gently behind his shoulder, the other wrapped delicately around his arm, and he flinched at her touch.  “Can you sit up?”

He let her slowly bring him up to sitting and the world tilted as another feeling surged forth, and suddenly fatigue was engulfing him like a tidal wave, crashing over him and washing the other away in an instant.  His energy dissolved like a strand of smoke in the wind and he was sliding back down to the blood-soaked earth. 

“Come on, you have to get up.  We can’t stay here,” she pleaded.

He knew she was right, but he wasn’t sure he could muster the strength.  Something inside him still felt wrong, incomplete, like a cavity only half-filled in.  Pain still throbbed, a deep, fathomless ache where his chest had been torn open, though it was no longer the fresh, raw agony of a gaping wound.

“I’ll help you.  Just get up.  Come on.” 

She hooked his arm around her slender shoulders and Ozai let her drag him slowly to his feet.  He nearly collapsed again before she caught him, stumbling back under his weight.  She grabbed up the near-empty satchel as they stepped over bodies and limbs, the ground black and spongy with blood. 

And then they walked.  Or she walked and half-led, half-dragged him through the forest.

Ozai didn’t know how long they had been moving, but it felt like a long time.  He kept his eyes half closed, throwing what remained of his energy into staying upright.  Even then, his strength was faltering and more than once he had fallen against her, nearly taking her down under his weight before she had managed to drag them both up again, her legs quivering.  Her strength was beginning to slip.  He was surprised she had any left after the fight and healing him and now bearing him forward.  She would not be able to hold him much longer.

“Look.  There.”  The girl’s voice was tired, breathless.  Listlessly he followed the direction of her stare. 

A tiny cabin sat huddled in the middle of a small clearing.  An older woman was rounding the corner, carrying a basket.  Her head turned toward them and she froze, her face going white.  The basket fell from her hands, its contents scattering across the ground as she ran inside.  A moment later she emerged again, rushing toward them with a tall, slim man at her heels.

The edges of Ozai’s vision were clouding now, closing in, the wave of fatigue he’d been fighting off rising up to engulf him completely.  And then he was falling, slender hands grappling and failing to hold him up, and there was an urgent gush of voices adrift somewhere…

_Spirits almighty, what happened–?_

_We need help, please–_

As darkness swallowed him whole.

* * *

**A/N: So, I took a bit of creative liberty with this healing scene.  I tried to imagine what it might be like for Ozai to basically have one foot in death’s door and for Katara to bring him back in the nick of time.  It is incredibly intense and powerful and Katara’s healing power has to reach really far and deep, and even then, she barely manages it.  I think the aftermath of such power pervading him could definitely flood him with a crazy cocktail of emotions and sensations and brain chemicals that he has no control over.  Not a side effect that would last long at all, more like that transient cold rush you get in your veins when an IV is started.  It’s something I imagine could happen as a result of this type of intense, barely-made-it scenario.  Bodies do weird stuff under physical and emotional trauma.  Just my creative spin on it :)**


	18. A Faint, Fluttering Warmth

Everything was dark and still.

Dark and still, but not peaceful.

The world was somehow empty and heavy at the same time, the nothing weighing Ozai down, pinning his arms and legs.  And then, little by little, the details began to unfold, to descend, rise up, wrap around him. 

He opened his eyes.

The land was dull and dreary and covered in ice.  It was difficult to tell where the horizon ended and the sky began, the seam swallowed up by the boundless palate of grey.  Ozai tried to move but his body felt weighted, heavy, like a rock at the bottom of a fathomless lake.  He honed his focus, concentrating on the stiff fibers of his muscles, the cold density of his bones, the sluggish flow of his chi until he felt his energy thawing, returning to him slowly at first, like a tap dripping, until it was a steady stream flowing life back through his frozen core.

When he was finally strong enough, Ozai dragged himself to his feet.  He knew where he was.  Well, perhaps not where he was precisely.  This icy wasteland was unknown to him but the essence in the air was all too familiar.  At least this time he had been spared any disturbing nightmares.

Strange, though, he thought.  He couldn’t feel the tie to his body in the physical world.  The last time, when the Avatar had been moments from seizing him, he had channeled all his focus through the veil and had felt the connection, had managed to project himself back into the physical world in the nick of time.  But now, it was as though that line had been severed.

The hazy fragment of a memory hung just out of reach of his consciousness.  Jagged steel.  Blood and agony.  Sapphire eyes and splitting cold.  It was like trying to recall a dream, like seeing the memory through a heavy mist.  Was he dead?  Was that why he couldn’t feel a connection to his body?

One thing was certain.  Staying here was not an option.  It would get him nowhere, and right now he wanted nothing more than to abandon this frozen, desolate place.  Perhaps if he moved on, things would become clearer.

Ozai closed his eyes and focused the whole of his being, extending his senses into the ground beneath his feet and the air flowing around him, listening to the hum of living energy, feeling the silken fabric of the veil around him.  And there was something else there too.  Something almost like a thin tether strung tight between himself and some unseen place, radiating a familiar dark energy.

What was it that spirit said?  _Like draws to like…_

With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and impressed his will on the veil, projecting his mind and energy forward until he felt the fabric shift around him, snapping back into place suddenly.  Ozai opened his eyes. 

The icy desert was gone, traded for a desert of another kind.  One that sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with a chill.  An endless sea of red sand and windblown dunes stretched beneath a sky of black velvet, dotted thinly with stars and dangling the sliver of a bloodshot moon above the horizon.  And just up ahead, bathed in that eerie ruddy glow was a procession of tall, robed figures all wearing the same grotesque mask.  A white face with a long, gaping mouth and haunting black eyes.  At least he hoped they were masks.  But Ozai was not going to wait to find out.

One of the figures turned to him, followed by another and another as the procession began to slow.  The first reached a long arm toward him and Ozai realized there was nothing inside the sleeve, just a hollow shadow.  The brown robes hovered inches off the ground but there were no feet beneath, nothing at all.  They started toward him, the row of eerie, identical masks swaying slowly, and Ozai concentrated, channeled his focus until he felt the soft jolt of his energy moving against the veil and when he opened his eyes again, he breathed a sigh of relief.

There was no desert this time, only the familiar green rolling hills, dull brown trees, the distant melody of water, voices carried on the wind.  The rush of relief surprised him.  He was growing too accustomed to this maddening place.  But the tether that had felt so tight had slackened a degree.  He was getting closer.  A shape moved in the distance.  Before he could risk a confrontation with another spirit, Ozai closed his eyes again.

This time, he honed his focus onto that thin string of dark energy, seeing it in his mind, following the direction of its lead, and when he moved this time it loosened further.  Each time he propelled himself through the uncanny, fluctuating landscapes it relaxed more until, at last, it went loose completely and then he saw it.  The jagged teeth of the mountains biting into a dark amethyst sky, the winking of churning clouds with violet flashes of lightning, heard the deep, brooding rumble of thunder.

And funneling down from a ring of fat, roiling clouds was that massive dome of miasmal light, its rippling surface streaked with sporadic flashes of lightning.

“Hello, Ozai,” a familiar voice crooned.  “I was wondering when you might return.”

The sinewy dome pulsed, almost like a heartbeat as he walked toward it slowly.  A dark shape materialized inside, the shapely form of a woman.

“You were so sure that I would?”

“Of course.  You are fated to enter our world despite your will.  And I knew eventually your desire for control would win out and you’d toy with learning to manage your new gift.  Getting better at it, I see.  That’s good.  You’ll need to if you hope to avoid the Avatar.”

“What would happen to me if I didn’t?”

“If he caught your spirit here in our world, you would fail to return to your body in the physical realm until he released you.”

Ozai had wondered as much, but the affirmation of it still burned hot through his blood like acid.  If there was any reason to take control of his unwelcome power, it was that.  He would not allow himself to be defeated by that boy again.

“So, you know my name,” he said, changing the subject.  “I think it’s only fair I know yours.”

“What is the preoccupation between you humans and names?  Names are trivial, they change and drift away with the tides of time.  At times, I’ve had many and at others, none.  But if you insist on calling me something, the name given me at the heart of the world’s creation was Nesithra.”

A violet streak of lightning flashed across the pulsing, sinewy dome.  The curvaceous form flickered inside, shifting into a wisp of black smoke and back into a woman.

“All right… Nesithra.  You’ve pressed me to learn to wield this ability, and I have to admit, I’m growing curious.  But why do I only enter while asleep?”

“In sleep, the mind is quiet and the veil between worlds grows thin.  One with a power such as yours might slip through easily.  It takes deep focus and concentration for the unpracticed mind to find the seam while awake.  You can learn to do it, with discipline.”

“Usually, just before it happens, I have a disturbing dream.  And almost every time, I hear voices chanting the same phrase.  Moon above, sun below.  What does that mean?”

“Interesting,” she lilted.  “Your gift may be stronger than I had realized.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe your subconscious mind is connecting with something, or someone, who is hinting you toward where you’ll find the two stones you seek.”

“That’s not a hint.  It’s a worthless mantra, at best.”

“I think you’ll find, in time, that it is.”

Ozai scowled.  She was toying with him.  Nesithra had made it clear she had no intention of helping him without recompense.  Still, he was going to garner as much information from her as he could.

“You mentioned before that you know where to find the missing stones.  How do you know?”

“We spirits are privy to that knowledge, and have been for centuries.  Most care little for the affairs of your bland, boring world, however, and have no interest in the objects.”

“You said yourself, when we first met, that you had wanted to spread your magic to the human world.  It’s why you were imprisoned.”

“Which is why I said _most_.”  He could hear the smirk in her voice.  There was a pause before she spoke again.  “I see you’ve had quite the misadventure of late, haven’t you?  Fascinating how much blood a single human can spill.  Your little waterbender certainly came in handy, though you’re lucky she had the heart not to leave you to die.  How peculiar.”

So he wasn’t dead after all.  The memory sharpened, bits and pieces finally settling into place like a puzzle.  The girl had actually saved him.  He had survived.  Ozai let the relief alight in his chest while simultaneously steeling himself against the uncomfortable nakedness, the way Nesithra gleaned the imprint of his energy with such ease.  He crossed his arms.

“My offer still stands, you know,” she continued.  “I can show you exactly where the moonstone and sunstone are hiding.  I’d just need you to free me of this pesky little prison.”

Thunder grumbled through the clouds as Ozai frowned.  “Tell me where to find them first, and I may consider it.”

She laughed, bitter and disdainful.  “Silly mortal.  Do you take me for a fool?  My offer is firm.  And the longer you take to sever the pillars, the greater chance you give the Avatar to stop you.”

He knew she was right.  But he still didn’t trust this spirit.  There was no telling what he might unleash if he freed her, and no guarantee she would even live up to her word once he did.  It was a risk he was unwilling to take.

“My answer is the same.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a casual shrug.  “You know how to find me when you change your mind.”

* * *

Katara sighed deeply, relishing the free movement of her arms, the knots in her tight, weary muscles all smoothed out by the long, glorious, hot bath.  The first proper one she’d had in weeks.  Katara had ached for a bath for so long.  Instead, she had been forced to settle for the damp cloth that Ozai would wipe over her neck and forehead, down her arms.  Her pulse lifted and she quickly banished the thought.

Bending the last of the water out of her hair, she dressed in the fresh grey tunic and pants that Ela had given her while her bloody clothes were being washed.  She exited the small bathhouse, which sat detached from the cabin out back, the lush green grass tickling her bare feet as she returned to the house and in through the creaking back door.  She was greeted by a delicious smell wafting through the tiny little cabin.  Hiresh was seated at the tilted dining table, bent over a book and a fragrant, steaming bowl, and the hollow ache in her stomach gnawed.  The door banged shut behind her and Ela peaked around the corner of the small kitchen nook, her round face beaming as she wiped her hands on her apron and shuffled toward her.

“Why, you look good as new!” she said, stopping before her and placing her calloused, dimpled hands around Katara’s wrists.  “I’d have hardly taken you for the same girl that showed up beneath all that blood and filth.”

Katara smiled as Ela led her toward the table and gestured for her to sit, placing a bowl of that steaming deliciousness before her.

“Eat.  I’m sure you must be hungry.” 

Katara nodded, popping a tender bite of meat into her mouth and closing her eyes with a sigh, relishing the warm, homecooked meal.

“Ela makes the best boar-sheep stew,” Hiresh said with a crooked smile.  “Don’t be shy, there’s plenty if you want more.”

Katara murmured her thanks, plucking up another bite as Hiresh went back to his book, Ela peddling about in the kitchen.  Katara eyed them over her bowl of stew. 

They were an adorable older couple, in their early sixties if she had to guess, judging by Hiresh’s balding grey hair and Ela’s deep laugh lines.  It was just the two of them living here, in this tiny, humble cabin in the middle of the woods.  After they had helped her drag an unconscious Ozai inside – no easy task, the man was a solid wall of muscle – Ela had brewed Katara a calming tea and sat her down at the table.

Once her nerves had settled a bit, they had exchanged names and started to talk.  Katara still wasn’t sure why she had given them fake names.  Why she hadn’t told them everything and begged for help before Ozai awoke.  There had been a fleeting moment when she’d considered it, but for reasons she couldn’t place, she had left everything else out and given them a concise, albeit slightly elusive version of what had happened.  They had wandered into the Bone Road by mistake, she’d said, and been attacked.  That she’d tried to heal him, but he had grown weak from loss of blood.  They hadn’t pressed for details – to Katara’s relief, she felt guilty for lying – and step for step the couple had been nothing short of warm and generous, Ela doting on her almost like a mother.

After she’d eaten, Katara thanked her hosts and glanced at the door that stood closed, off the modest living area.  Ozai still hadn’t woken.  He had been unconscious for hours.  Katara walked over to the door and cracked it quietly, peeked through.  He hadn’t shifted a trace since she’d checked on him hours ago.  His arms still rested heavy at his sides, his blood-matted ebony hair snaking over the pillow, the white sheets marred by streaks of rusty red.  She studied him for a long moment, his stiff, motionless body.  She was starting to think he may have stopped breathing, but finally there came the slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest.  Katara exhaled softly and slipped inside.

The room was not so much a room as a closed off nook, just enough space to stand comfortably before the full-sized bed on which he lied and a tiny square bedside table.  On the wall was a single, unlit candle fixture, the wax half eaten away by past use.  A shaft of gilded sunlight filtered in through a single small, round window at the top of the wood-planked wall.  Her eyes skimmed over Ozai’s pale, sallow skin.  He had lost so much blood.  Ozai had been dying, very nearly had died, and she had somehow managed to heal him.  Though just barely.

There was a natural order to these things.  A set of physical laws that could not be broken.  Ozai’s wound had been so severe, had brought him so near death so quickly, that tiny parts of him had been too far gone for even her power to reach.  Little holes already carved out by death’s touch, loose threads she couldn’t quite mend.  They would heal in their own time, of course.  But even a moment later and Katara would likely have failed to bring him back.

Now, as she stood there beside him, alone with her thoughts, the question that had been bobbing beneath the current of her mind finally breached the surface.  Why had she done it?

Part of her wanted to believe she had acted on instinct, and she had.  In that harrowing moment, adrenaline and reflex had taken over.  He was dying, horribly, and she couldn’t bring herself to just walk away.  But why?  He was holding her captive.  She could have easily just escaped.

Ozai had done many truly wicked things, and anyone could argue that he was a truly wicked man.  By all accounts, he deserved to die.  But behind the monster the world had come to despise, in little glimpses, through the cracks in his armor, she was finding a broken man who had never been given the chance to turn out differently.  Somehow, it just didn’t seem right to leave him there if she could save him.

But there was something else.  Katara had been trying not to think of it, afraid of what she might find if she looked too closely.  But the thought kept scratching at her consciousness and so finally, standing there in the quiet, she allowed it to settle over her with a cold tightening of her belly…

Fighting for their lives together, in that moment, Ozai was more ally than enemy.  He hadn’t been the one she feared or the one she was trying to escape.  Looking back now, she expected it all to feel so absurd, so wrong.  But it didn’t.  In that moment, he was familiar.  He was safe.  And then he was dying.  And she had been scared.  She didn’t want to be alone.  Where would she go? 

Zuko was married, and the capital was teeming with the ghosts of their memories.  It would be too painful.  She couldn’t return home to her tribe, not yet.  She wasn’t sure she could face her people, the shame she had brought on herself, on all of them.  Despair sunk heavy in her chest.  She didn’t know where to turn.

Katara left him to rest again.  She spent the day helping around the cabin as Ela would allow, scrubbing potatoes and radishes, gathering eggs from the coop out back, feeding the chickens and boar-sheep, drawing water from the well.  Daylight was draining from the sky, dark purple shadows thickening outside the windows, when Ela announced that dinner was ready.  They had just sat down at the rickety kitchen table, Ela divvying out portions of delicious smelling braised boar-sheep over rice, when there was the soft click of a door.

Katara looked up.  Ozai was stepping out into the main room hesitantly, like a wary animal ready to defend itself.  He stopped, his posture stiffening as his gaze flitted between Ela and Hiresh, and then finally descended on her.

There was a heavy pulse in the air as their eyes met.  A deluge of unspoken words passed between them, a silent question in the furrows of his brow.  His intense, pressing gaze lingered on hers for far too long and Katara’s skin warmed, the hair rising on her arms.

“There you are.  So glad to see you up and recovering,” Ela said warmly, rending their gaze apart as she stood and padded over to the stove.  “Just in time for supper.”

The woman filled a fourth bowl and set it at the empty place on the table.  “Please,” she gestured, smiling.

Ozai walked slowly over to the table with a nearly imperceptible frown, but Katara could pick it out.  A barb of pity pricked her.  He always looked so guarded, like he expected the whole world had an ulterior motive.  He sat down across from Katara and their eyes met for another long moment.  A breath caught in her throat before he finally looked down at his meal.

It was quiet for several minutes, only the click and scrape of chopsticks on wooden bowls.  The silence grew uncomfortable and Katara shifted, staring down at her bowl, not daring to risk another glance back up at Ozai, for fear of being pinned again by those burning amber eyes.

“Thank you,” Katara said finally, turning to her hosts.  “For taking us in like this.”

Hiresh smiled.  “Well, we certainly couldn’t shoo you off in that horrible condition.  How are you feeling now, Emon?”

Ozai stopped chewing briefly.  The whole moment hardened, stopped, as his gaze slid to Katara.  As he realized she had lied about who they were, about who he was.  He looked backed at Hiresh.

“Better,” came his brief response.

The woman nodded, smiling warmly.  “It’s so nice to have someone using the room.  It’s felt so empty without our son here.  It used to be his.”

“Where is he now?” Katara asked around a bite, then promptly wished she hadn’t.

“Our Tanrik was killed recently.  A casualty in the civil war spreading through the Fire Nation.” 

Katara blinked and felt the color drain from her face.  Civil war?  Things were so much worse than she’d thought. 

“He met a young woman there a couple years ago,” Ela continued.  “They tried the long-distance thing for a while but it got serious, and last year he moved there to be with her.  That was before things took a turn.  He wrote in a letter not long ago that they were planning on moving back here, before the dissension got worse, but… well.  They never made it.” 

Katara slid a horrified glance at Ozai, but he kept his eyes fixed on his bowl, plucking up a small bite of rice.  He didn’t look at her.

Hiresh cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.  “So, your friend Kya here was telling us you two happened upon the Bone Road by accident.  I figure you all must not be from around here.  All the locals know to stay far away from that area of the woods these days.  So, where are you two from?”

Katara opened her mouth but her eyes darted to Ozai. 

“We’re refugees,” he cut in without so much as a blink.  “Recently fled the war ourselves.”

The man nodded grimly, looked down, and the woman’s shoulders dropped.  Katara cringed.  Ela’s expression softened as she considered them.

“I’m glad you two got out.”  Her eyes flitted down and then between them with a sad smile.  “Our son always loved helping others.  He’d have gladly given someone the last shirt on his back without expecting anything in return.  You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.  Tanrik would want that.” 

Her heart withered and she wanted to disappear.  This kindhearted couple honestly believed they were refugees, safely escaped from the same war that had claimed their son’s life, and instead of bitterness their warmth toward them only blossomed.  Katara looked around the cabin.  They had so little to spare beyond just the two of them.

“That’s very generous,” she managed with a soft smile.  “Thank you.”

When they had all finished eating, the woman stood and tossed her napkin onto the table.  “Well.  It’s getting late.  I’m sure Kya’s tired and you still have a lot of recovering to do, Emon.  Come, let’s get you two settled.”

Chairs scraped as they stood and Katara and Ozai followed the woman to the room where Ozai had lain recovering.  They stood just outside the door, watching as Ela lit the candle on the wall and changed the bloodied bed linens, and Katara glanced over her shoulder, at the tiny living area.  They couple didn’t even own a couch.  The small space left no room for larger furnishings other than the dining room table, a few rickety wooden chairs, and a chest of drawers.  A thought unfurled in her mind and her brows pulled together.

_Wait…_

Katara’s eyes widened, sliding slowly back to the room as her skin tightened, the pieces coming together.  There was only one other room off the small main area, a bedroom which clearly belonged to the couple.  The only other place to sleep was here.  This room was to be _theirs_.

“It’s not much of a room, really, is it?” Ela said over her shoulder, as though hearing her thoughts.  “My apologies.  I hope you don’t mind sharing it.  We converted our storage closet years ago so my son could have his own space.”  She fitted the clean sheets onto the bed and stood up, hands on her hips.  “The bed isn’t terribly big, I know, but it should accommodate the two of you.  I hope you’ll find it comfortable enough while you’re here.”

Katara swallowed tightly and tried to smile.  At least she hoped it was a smile, but it felt like a grimace.

Ela bundled up the soiled blankets in one arm and then held the other out to Ozai.  “Give me that nasty tunic.  I’ll wash it for you tonight.  It’ll be good as new come morning.  Can’t have you going about all crusted and caked with blood.” 

Ozai glanced down at himself and frowned. 

“Oh, don’t be shy.  I’m sure I have some of Tanrik’s old things lying around.  They might be a bit snug on you, but they’ll do in the meantime.”  Ela wiggled her hand with the gentle impatience of a doting mother.  “Come on now, off with it.” 

Katara nearly laughed and masked it with a soft cough but her mouth still twitched into a smirk.  Ozai slid her a sharp look before grudgingly peeling off the bloodied garment and handing it to the woman.  Ela gaped and took in a breath, blinking at the slathering of dried blood that painted his torso, the angry fresh scar webbing out from the middle of his chest.

“Spirits almighty,” she said softly.  “You’re lucky to be alive.  The washroom’s outside, through the back door.  I imagine you’ll be wanting it.  I hope you both have a restful night, and please, do make yourselves at home if you need anything.”

The woman plodded off and left them standing there.  A lump formed in Katara’s throat.  Not knowing what else to do, she clutched a hand around her wrist and walked sheepishly into the room.  A moment later, there was a soft click and Katara turned to see Ozai close the door behind him.  Their eyes met and Katara’s face burned.  There was just enough room for the two of them to stand.  The former closet was completely engulfed by the moderately sized bed.

The single candle flickered in its crooked sconce on the wall, casting the room in a soft glow.  Katara looked decisively away and slid her hand up her arm, hugging her ribcage.  She had vacantly noted the size of the room earlier while Ozai was unconscious.  But, somehow, she hadn’t put together that they might be sharing it. 

“You can have the bed.”

Katara looked up at Ozai, raising a sharp brow and gave a huff.  “And where will _you_ sleep?  On the _floor_?”

They both glanced down at the tiny spit of grimy wood planks at their feet.  It was a rhetorical question. 

“I was attempting to be _considerate_ ,” he said gruffly.  An awkward beat of silence passed between them.

“If either of us should have the bed, it’s you,” she said quietly.  “I’m not the one who almost died and spent the entire day unconscious.”

Ozai glanced away with a frown and then finally back at the bed.  “I think we can make do for one night, seeing as how we’ve spent all the others sleeping next to each other.”

“Uh, in our own separate sleeping bags!  Hardly the same thing.”

“Either way, waterbender, we don’t have a choice.  We’ve drawn enough attention, throwing ourselves at these people the way we did.  You are not going to cause a scene and invite further questions and suspicion.  So now, if you’re through griping, I’m going to try to wash this blood off my skin before bed.”

He turned and started for the door.  She glowered at his back.

“Don’t call me that.”

Ozai hesitated and then turned.  “What?”

“Waterbender.  I heard you say my name.  My _real_ name.  Back when you were bleeding out all over the ground and I was saving your life.  Like it or not, you’ve shown you can do it now.  So, _stop_ calling me that.”

He considered her for a moment, his gold eyes flicking down and then back.  He said nothing, just speared her with that flinty expression she knew so well and turned and disappeared through the door.

* * *

After the battle with the rebels, Zuko spent much of the day in the infirmary, chatting by each soldier’s bedside, trying to keep up morale and raise spirits.  It wasn’t easy.  He should have known Azula would have a secret weapon at her disposal.  He should have known she’d never trust anyone enough to send them as a decoy without something up her sleeve.  The soldiers were wounded, but worse, they were scared.  It would be a lot to ask of any of them to go up against the rebels again.

Zuko stopped at the next soldier’s bedside, a boy just a few years younger than himself.  A deep red stain seeped through the bandage around his head, one arm in a sling, the other missing below the elbow, the thick bandage there sodden with blood.  Zuko released a soft breath as his heart sank and the boy cracked his eyes open.  A faint smile rested against his dry, cracked lips.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” the words scraped out.

Zuko forced himself to smile back.  He filled a water glass and kneeled down beside the soldier, holding it to his lips so he could drink, as he’d done for many of the others.  The action had mortified the nurses at first, left them red-faced and flustered at the sight of the Fire Lord kneeling and serving the common folk.  Zuko had ignored their uneasy looks, the anxious murmurs, had gently turned one away when she had suggested he let them do the servants’ work.  Now the shock had melted into something softer, warmer, swooning whispers and glances passed between nurses, a sigh, a coy smile.  He ignored these too, which only seemed to fan the flames, as he spoke with the soldiers, holding their gaze, making sure they felt valued, seen.

The boy drank from the glass until it was empty and rested his head back with a grimace.

“You fought well today.  The world owes you a debt of gratitude.”  Zuko placed the glass down on the bedside table and bowed to the boy.  He turned to walk on.

“I only repay the debt I owe you, Fire Lord.”

Zuko turned back.  “What do you mean?”

“I was just a little boy when the Fire Nation seized my town during the war.  My father had been a renowned teacher in the Earth Kingdom before that.  I’ll never forget the way the soldiers sliced his head off for dissenting, right in front of me and my brother, my mother.”

Zuko’s stomach knotted.  “I’m so sorry–”

“No,” he rasped, his eyes squeezing shut briefly.  “You see, I never told anyone really about how my life changed in the wake of that tragedy.  When my home was destroyed, we found residence in a tiny rented room above a dressmaker’s shop, where my mother did her best to feed and clothe us by taking in piecework.  We were nearly starving when our town was finally liberated.  When _you_ ended the war.  You sent food, clothing, made sure we had plenty of basic necessities.  And from that moment, I vowed my undying support to the new Fire Lord, to help you restore the world at any cost.  It was my duty and my pleasure to fight for you today.”

A lump burned in Zuko’s throat.  “I am truly honored.”  He placed a hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder.  “Rest now, soldier.”

The afternoon was growing late when he had completed the rounds and had taken the royal palanquin to the town hall to address the public.  A proclamation of victory, his advisors had said, in driving the rebels back would foster a desperately needed air of optimism.  “Victory” was an enormous stretch, of course, and tasted like a lie, but they _had_ caught the opposition off guard and forced them to retreat, and what was a little white lie, they had said, to bolster appearances?  If the rebels appeared weaker, if it seemed that Zuko’s regime was capable of dealing a major blow to the insurgence, their support could grow and dilute some of the opposition’s power.

“I am greatly indebted to our allies in the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes,” he was saying now, drawing his speech to a close, “who fought alongside us today and helped make this victory possible.  Many brave men and women lost their lives today defending our shared vision of a world at peace.  It is my hope that few more will have to die, as I believe this civil war could be nearing its end.  But the world needs you, all of you, to spread the message of harmony.  Together, I am confident we will make this nation and our world greater than we could have ever dreamed.  Thank you.”

There was a pause as Zuko stepped down off the platform, so quiet he might have heard a feather fall.  And then a roar of applause erupted through the town hall, stealing his breath.  His guards escorted him through the crowd, past glowing grins and strong, proud faces, past smiling mothers with tear-stained cheeks, holding their babies close. 

The thunder of applause followed him through the doors and out into the waiting palanquin and Zuko’s stomach churned sluggishly as he slumped down next to Aang.  He felt like the most incredible fraud.  These people had no idea about the transmuted benders, the rebels’ secret weapons.  And he couldn’t tell them, not yet.  It would only incite mass panic.  If Azek and his crew could sniff out the cagrium deposits, there was a chance they could shut the whole thing down and take the insurgence down with it.

But if they didn’t…

Zuko couldn’t think about that now.  He didn’t want to think at all.  His mind felt numb, his chest heavy.  The palanquin started off with a jolt and Zuko closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the plush headrest.

* * *

Katara sat in bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her back and arm nestled into the corner where the two walls met.  She stared at the rolling design embroidered on the bedspread as it cascaded down over her legs, her eyes tracking across the hypnotic pattern over and over until her vision blurred.  She rested her chin down on her knees and shut her heavy eyes when, finally, she heard the quiet tick of the door open and close.  She tensed and looked up.

Ozai was standing there, a bead of water dripping slowly from a strand of his dark hair, down his bare chest, broad and hard with muscle.  An unwelcome flutter stirred in her stomach and she cringed tightly.

He stepped forward and picked up the folded garment Ela had laid out for him on the bed, frowning as he inspected it, and Katara could easily see that it was at least a size too small.  He turned around, considering the tunic hanging from his hands.  His back was to her, his shoulders broad and strong.  Defined.  She felt her skin warm as her gaze tracked between his shoulder blades, past his new scar, down the slope of his back.  As though feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring.  Her face flushed hot and Katara glanced away quickly but not before catching the subtle curl of a smirk on his lips.

She braced for the snide comment.  But instead he simply turned back around and Katara gave a silent prayer of thanks.  Ozai slipped the snug tunic up and over his head and she could hear the stitch in his breath, see the snag in his movements.  He was still in pain.  Ozai let out a wavering breath as he tugged the tight-fitting garment down and then turned back around to face her. 

The candle painted pictures of light on the walls of the room.  He held her gaze for a moment.  Katara’s pulse quickened as he brought a hand up to the crooked candle fixture on the wall.  His fingers smothered the quivering flame and the room was plunged into darkness.  Katara swallowed through the tightness in her throat and slid down into the bed, gripping the sheets.

There was a quiet pause and then the whisper of movement just before the mattress shifted under his weight, and Katara’s stomach reeled as Ozai slid slowly into bed beside her, so close she could feel his body heat radiating against the sheets.  She pressed herself back as close to the wall as she could, but there was still so little space between them.

As her eyes adjusted to the thick darkness, she could scarcely make out the contour of his profile, frosted in the trace of moonlight that filtered in through the tiny round window near the ceiling.  They lied there for a long time in the heavy quiet.  Neither of them spoke, though it was painfully obvious through the tight stillness of their bodies, the snag of their breaths, that they were both very much awake.

The mattress shifted again as Ozai turned onto his side.  His features were lost to darkness but she could tell he was facing her now.  Katara’s skin tightened, the air catching in her throat as she waited.

“Why did you do it?”  The question came quietly, his voice husky in the dark.

A degree of tension unwound from her body and Katara released a faint, shuddering breath.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected.  She felt fairly confident now, more or less, that she didn’t have to fear a sexual assault, but then he was still Ozai and she still didn’t trust him, and they’d never been so intimately close before.

Katara waited while her resting heartbeat recovered.  She didn’t respond right away.  It was the question she had been asking herself, an answer she was still digesting.  For now, she opted for an easy out.

“I don’t know,” she whispered at last.

“You could have had your freedom.  Could have left me to bleed out.  But you didn’t…  Why?”

Katara hesitated.  “You were dying…”

“That’s not an answer,” he said in a deep, hushed voice.  “Why do you care?”

The patch of dappled moonlight on the wall quivered, the trees outside shuddering in a breeze.

“If you’d died, what might have happened to me?  If more of those people had come?”

Ozai sighed softly.  “I see.  Better to gamble on the man you know than the world you don’t.”  He paused.  “You think you know me?”  

Katara couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his eyes on her, the warm pressure of his gaze.  She swallowed.

“I know you’re a practical man,” she said quietly.  “I know as long as you need me, I’ll be safe.”

He leaned up on one elbow, propping his head up with his hand.  “And if you still refuse to help me?”  The warning hovered just beneath the veneer of his velvety tone.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” he replied, but his soft, husky voice held no trace of malice.

They lied there quiet for a long while.  Facing each other, features shrouded in shadow, their breaths the only sound in the stillness. 

“Why do you need a bloodbender, Ozai?” Katara asked at last, quietly.

“Will you agree to help if I tell you now?”

She chewed her lip.  “That depends.”

Ozai released a soft, smirking breath in the dark.

“Wrong answer,” came his silky voice, a note shy of a whisper.

Her pulse flittered.  The silence stretched, long and tight, and finally slackened when it became clear neither of them were going to say anything more.  Ozai rolled onto his back and Katara tried to coax her mind and body to rest.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She didn’t remember falling asleep.  Katara took in a long breath and cracked her groggy eyes open to warm sunlight spilling into the room.  She squeezed them shut again with a soft groan and rolled over, nestling deeper into the cozy blankets when she felt herself roll up against a firm wall of warmth…

Her breath stopped.  Every muscle in her body snapped tight as the memory rushed back and Katara’s eyes shot open to find herself pressed against Ozai, his face bare inches from hers.  His gold eyes were open, drilling into her with a sharp smile as she shoved away from him, her back hitting the wall.

“Good morning,” he sneered.

“Before you say anything, that was an accident,” she spat.

His piercing eyes gleamed with amusement.  “Of course.”

Katara glared coldly despite the heat climbing up her cheeks and sat up, pressing herself into the corner when there was a soft knock at the door.  Ozai rose from the bed and opened it.  Hiresh stood there, holding a bowl of water, some folded garments draped over one arm.

“Morning,” he said with a smile.  “I was afraid to wake you, but I thought I heard you talking, so I figured it was safe to knock.  I have your newly washed clothing ready to wear, and a fresh bowl of water if you care to wash your faces.”  Hiresh shrugged with a small smile.  “That was Ela’s touch.”  

Ozai stepped back and let Hiresh lay the garments out on the bed.  He set the bowl on the tiny square table and then turned to them.

“Breakfast is still cooking, so there’s no rush.  Take as much time as you need.”

He walked back out and closed the door softly behind him.  A brief silence filled the space between them and then Katara cleared her throat as she scooted to the edge and slid from the bed, her feet settling on the old wood floor.  Ozai dragged his borrowed, snug-fitting tunic off and reached for his own, freshly cleaned.  Katara tried to look away, but something caught her eyes.  A faint, fleeting glimmer against his chest, a gleam of red as the light caught.

Blood, she realized, her brows lifting.  Tiny beads of dark crimson weeping from the angry web of flesh.

“Your scar is oozing.”  Her small voice cut through the quiet.

Ozai looked down.  There was a brief pause and then his eyes narrowed, digging into her as he dropped his black tunic back onto the bed.

“I thought you healed me.”

“I did–”

“Then explain this,” he said darkly, sweeping a hand over his chest.

Katara frowned.  “I’m just a healer.  I don’t work in necromancy.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means you were so close to being dead that, technically, I shouldn’t have been able to heal you at all.”  Her temper was rising to match his.  So ungrateful.  “You _were_ dying, Ozai.  If I’d tended to you any later, you likely would have.”  She scoffed through a breathy laugh.  “You have no idea what a miracle it is you’re even standing here now.  So yes, I managed to heal you, but there was only so much I could do.  That kind of brush with death leaves its own mark, little hollows that are impossible for any healer to weave back together.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that to me until now?” he said through his teeth.

“No, I assumed you’d do the smart thing and rest after nearly dying.  The holes will heal on their own, but it’ll take time.”

“I don’t _have_ time,” he growled.

“You don’t have a choice,” she retorted.  “If you do too much too soon, you could tear your wounds open again, bleed internally.  You need rest.  You heard Ela and Hiresh, we can stay as long as we need.”

“No.  Do it again.”

Katara blinked.  “What?”

“Heal me again,” he repeated tersely, stepping toward her.

“It doesn’t work like that,” she countered, fighting the urge to draw back.  “I’ve already–”

Ozai grabbed both her hands and flattened them against his scar, holding them there.  “ _Try_.”

His incisive gaze burned heat onto her face as she held it, his hands trapping hers against his hard, bare chest.  An unwelcome warmth prickled up her arms, fluttering down into her stomach, and Katara wrenched her eyes from his.  She fought to focus her thoughts and released a snagging breath and a moment later, water fluttered up from the bowl at her will, coming to rest on his scar.  She cleared her mind, closed her eyes, and reached.

At first, she felt nothing.  There was no gaping wound, no fresh injury to grab onto.  But she willed herself to reach further, deeper.  And then her power brushed something, the barest hint of a thread.  Then another.  She could feel them now, the little holes left by the cold brush with death.  Some of them would not bend at her touch and could only heal in time.  But the ones with the threads…

Katara took a deep breath, steeled her focus, and began to pull.  She heard Ozai suck in a soft breath but kept her eyes closed.  She could feel the tiny cavities in the tattered flesh melding together slowly, sluggishly, the knitting of fiber and muscle.  A terrible aching cold wound through her as she pushed her power farther, and she felt her chest seize, her breath trip.  The chill spread through her fingers and up her arms, sharp and biting.

Almost… 

Ozai’s breath snagged as the last bits of flesh rejoined and Katara let out a tight sigh, her arms going slack.  But they didn’t fall.  She looked up.

Her hands were still pinned against his chest and her stomach lurched at the closeness.  She had inched toward him in her focus and he was leaning slightly, bowed in the aftermath of discomfort still etched on his face.  Their eyes met.

“Something happened.”  His voice was husky, low.

“Yes,” she breathed out.  “It worked, a little.  At least the oozing should stop.”

They stood there, her hands pinned to his chest.  Heat flooded her body and her pulse rose higher with every second that his amber eyes lingered on hers.  They were uncomfortably familiar.  She had gazed into those eyes many times before, but where Zuko’s edges were softer, Ozai’s were sharp and steely.

“You can take your hands back now, if you’d like.”  A trace of a smirk touched Ozai’s lips and Katara blushed furiously, grimacing.  His hands slid from hers as she yanked them back quickly and stepped away, avoiding his eyes as he reached for his freshly cleaned tunic on the bed.

“With that settled, we can leave first thing.”  Ozai was tugging the tunic down over his chest when her eyes snapped back to him.

“Are you crazy?” she bit out a laugh.  “You still need rest.  You’re in no condition to–”

“Were you hoping to spend another night sharing a bed?”

Her eyes widened, red bursting onto her cheeks.  “Ugh!  No!” 

“Then I’m sure you won’t object to our leaving.”

“Fine,” she spat through her teeth.  “Suit yourself.  But if you end up dying from internal bleeding, I’m not healing you a second time.”

She snatched up her clean clothes and stalked back out through the empty house, out the back door, and flashed a fake smile and a wave at Ela and Hiresh where they stood talking over the rickety grill, and into the bathhouse.  Katara pumped the water into the tub, tore off her borrowed clothes, made sure the bath was nice and heated, and sunk down into water.

She seethed and tried not to let her heart wither.  Katara had hoped to have another day of freedom, eating real food inside a real house with the company of their gracious hosts who had quickly come to feel like family.  But Ozai, tenacious and unyielding as the man was, wouldn’t waste a second longer than necessary.  This would likely be the last real bath she would have for a while.  So she was determined to enjoy it and try to scrub away the despair and the anger, and the sickening butterflies that still lingered beneath, crawling around in her belly.

When the pads of her fingers and toes were shriveling to prunes, Katara finally dragged herself from the bath and redressed in her own green tunic and brown pants.  She passed Ela in the tiny garden picking blueberries, Hiresh turning a slab of meat on the grill, as she made her way back inside. 

Steeling herself to face him again, she registered Ozai’s absence from their room a moment before catching him in the corner of her vision, in the little kitchen nook.  Katara’s brow pinched as she came up behind him.  In one hand, he held the near-empty satchel.  He reached for a pair of apples on a shelf with the other, dropping them into the bag.  Her stomach clenched as the realization hit her.

“What are you doing?” she snapped, stepping beside him.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re _stealing_ from these people?!” Katara hissed, darting a glance at the door.

Ozai didn’t turn to her.  “Keep your morals away from me.”  He plucked up a small loaf of bread, a bruised peach. 

“Ela and Hiresh have shared everything they have with us, and they barely have enough for themselves!  How can you do a thing like this?”

“It’s called survival.”

“No!  It’s called being a decent human being for once.  Put them back.”

“We have a long journey ahead and no food, no money, no supplies.”

“So your solution is to rob the kind, selfless people who helped you?!”

Ozai said nothing, only firmed his jaw as he grabbed a turnip, a head of cabbage, packed them away.

Her nostrils flared and she exhaled sharply.  “You’re despicable,” Katara rasped through gritted teeth.  “You’re awful and horrible and I can’t stand you.”

Ozai stopped and turned to her then, spearing her with a cool, snide look.

“I’ll have to take your word on that, as it certainly didn’t appear that way about twenty minutes ago.” 

Katara gaped, bristling, her face flushing molten hot with the memory of his bare chest beneath her touch.  Ozai turned back, shoving a potato into his bag.  She crossed her arms brusquely and looked away, feeling the scorching redness creeping down her neck, but forced herself to look at him again, glaring daggers.

“Put them back.”

“No.”

“I won’t stand here watching you steal–”

“Then look away.”

Her anger flared and before she could think, her hand shot out, clutching his arm.  “ _Ozai_.” 

Katara’s chest tightened as he stopped, as she waited for the repercussion.  A muscle clenched in his jaw, his eyes sliding downward, hesitating.  But when they rose to meet hers, there was only the bitter glint of displeasure written there.

“Please,” she said, her grip on his arm softening, holding his gaze.  “Don’t do this.”

A long moment passed between them before his eyes rolled closed with a sigh.  Ozai shook his head and shot her an irritated look.  But, to her surprise, he reached into his bag and began pulling items out, returning them one by one.

Katara released a breath she didn’t realized she’d been holding and took back her hand.  The tension in her chest loosened and a faint, fluttering warmth took its place.  She hadn’t actually expected him to give in to her plea.  The small surrender surprised her.

When he was finished, Ozai turned to her with a thwarted glower.  “There.  Satisfied?”

“Good morning!”  Ela bubbled in through the back door, holding a basket of fresh berries.  The woman was a walking ray of sunshine.  “I trust you both slept well?”

Katara’s eyes met Ozai’s briefly and quickly darted away.

“We did,” he said with a quiet smirk intended for her.  “Thank you.”

A mild jolt pricked through her belly and she flashed him an icy look.

“You’re looking well, Emon.  I take it you two intend to be on your way this morning.”  She gestured to the slack satchel in his grasp, weighted now only by their last surviving cucumber and a sack of rice cakes.

Katara clutched a hand lightly to her wrist as Ozai nodded.

“Well, you’ll eat well before leaving our company.  I hope you’re both hungry.  Hiresh just finished grilling his delicious spiced boar-q-pine.” 

The back door swung open and Hiresh stepped through with a grin, holding a plate of steaming, savory meat.  He set the plate down on the table and the four of them sat down, exchanging small, pleasant conversation around bites of delicious food.  When they had finally finished, they rose and Katara thanked them for the meal.

“Where are you and Kya off to now?” Hiresh asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets casually.  “Hoping to settle anywhere in particular?”

“Heading southwest,” Ozai lied.  “We just haven’t found the right place yet.”

“Well, you’ll know if when you see it, I’m sure,” Ela said, clasping her hands in front of her.  “I know you’re wanting to be on your way…  But first, may I borrow your bag?”

Ozai hesitated briefly before handing it over.  Ela padded over to the shelves, plucking up apples, carrots, bison-bear jerky, turnips, dropping them into the bag.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Katara asked, stepping forward.  “You need that.”

“There’s a bit more ready to be harvested.  And I wouldn’t sleep tonight if I let you two leave empty-handed.”  Ela turned and walked back to them.  “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it’ll help you get wherever you’re going.”

She handed the satchel back to Ozai and to Katara’s surprise he muttered an audible “Thank you” as the couple led them outside.  Morning dew still hung in the air but the sunlight spilling down through the trees was already warm.  The woman placed a tender hand on Ozai’s arm.  He blinked and Katara watched him struggle to not draw back.

“Take care of yourself, Emon.”

Ela stepped to Katara then, her warm eyes glistening as her hands squeezed Katara’s arms.  Katara swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled the woman into a hug.

“Thank you for everything,” she said through the thickness in her throat.

Ela squeezed her tighter.  “Spirits guide you.”

Hiresh gave a warm wave as Katara and Ozai turned their backs to the cabin and the couple standing outside and started walking.  After a short time Katara turned, hoping for one last glance, but the tiny house had already been gobbled up by the trees.  Her heart sank and she turned back with a sigh, twisting the bulk of her unruly waves over one shoulder, her eyes skating sideward to Ozai.

Which was when she realized.

Her hands were still free. 

He was leaving her unbound.


	19. A Giant Elephant-Moose in the Room

**A/N: This chapter originally had a little too much going on, too many separate threads, so I pared it down to just Ozai and Katara and will touch back on the other subplot(s) next chapter. And for anyone who's wondering, my half-fingertip did actually grow back for the most part from when I chopped it clean off back in December (though it'll always look a little weird and my husband lovingly dubbed it Frankenfinger).**

**Fun fact: You can, in fact, regenerate a fingertip (more or less) if you have even just a little fingernail left, thanks to the wonders of stems cells in your nail bed.**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

The air was thick with the sweetness of grass and evening dew.  The forest had finally broken onto a sweeping meadow, the tall grass seeded with wildflowers swishing against her legs.  Katara watched as the sun slid below the horizon.  The same sun that had risen this morning, when she had awoken under Ela and Hiresh’s roof.  It was hard to imagine that just today they had left that sweet little cabin behind, that just yesterday they had barely made it out of the Bone Road alive.  It felt like it could have been days.

A cool breeze licked at her arms and her skin prickled with goosebumps.  Katara shivered.  The cool front had been a refreshing change, at first, from the oppressive heat of a few days ago, but now, beneath the clear indigo sky, with no clouds or tree cover for insulation, the drastic change was growing uncomfortable.

“Can we build a fire or something when we stop?  It’s chilly.”

“Where do you expect to find kindling?” Ozai asked without looking at her.  “There are next to no trees here.  And regardless, a fire would only draw attention.  We’ll have to manage.”

Her mouth twisted at the scorn in his tone.  “Our sleeping bags are gone, we don’t have our cloaks to keep warm.  We wouldn’t even have food if it weren’t for Ela and Hiresh.  If you had just listened to the warnings, if you had listened to that gut feeling I had–”

He shot her a sour look. “Perhaps we can warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so.”

Katara scowled and shook her head with a huff, trudging beside him.  “You seriously have a problem, you know that?  Did it ever even cross your mind to maybe _thank_ me for not letting you die?  Cause I’m still waiting.”

His jaw clenched but he said nothing, his eyes fixed ahead. 

“And I’ll be waiting forever, won’t I?  Because you just can’t stand to admit that you’re ever anything less than right.  Sorry to burst your egomaniacal bubble, but it _is_ possible for others to possess instincts that you don’t have.  Maybe next time, instead of almost getting us both killed, you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss my judgment.”

He scoffed.  “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.  I wouldn’t be touting your judgment as a strong suit, considering its rather embarrassing slip in recent past.”  

Katara stopped short, gaping furiously.  Anger flared hot on her face and she stalked after him, grass hissing against her legs, her fingernails digging into her clenched fists as she shouted at his back.

“Oh _yes_ , you just _love_ to twist that knife in my side, don’t you!  You love roasting my failed relationship with Zuko – _oh_ _!_  – but let’s not talk about your _own_ ruined marriage. Yes, things didn't work out between us. Yes, I made a spectacular idiot of myself.  But at least I did it for love!”

He simply kept walking.  A dragonfly whirred past her ear as Katara fumed behind him, forced to take two steps for every one of his to keep up. 

“The love Zuko and I had was profound and real, something you simply can’t comprehend, I know, and it would have worked out if it wasn’t for your nation’s stupid racist politics.  Do you even know what it’s like to love another human being?”

Ozai’s hands tightened at his sides but he still said nothing.  Katara ground her teeth.

“I feel _sorry_ for your wife,” she spat.  “The biggest favor you ever did was banish her.  Now at least she doesn’t have to suffer your cruel heartlessness anymore.”

He stopped then.  A thick silence descended, cold and prickling, like the air just before a storm.  Katara became horribly aware of the avalanche of words that had just tumbled from her mouth.  Ozai turned to her slowly and the hair on her arms stood on end.  She took a shuddering breath in, instinctively inching back a step but in two slow, ominous strides he was before her.

His voice was unnervingly quiet, with the low, angry thrum of a temper barely leashed.  “If you have a _sliver_ of intelligence in that simple peasant brain of yours, you’ll stop talking.  _Right now_.  You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Then by all means.”  She tipped her chin up boldly but her heart was racing.  “Enlighten me as to what part of that I got wrong.”

Ozai’s brows drew low over darkened eyes, his voice like silk with a razor’s edge.  “I’m not going to placate your morbid curiosity this time, my dear, just to prove a point.” 

Katara swallowed tightly.  “Then you might as well just admit I’m right.”

He didn’t smile, not really – it didn’t touch his lips – but his amber eyes wore the hard glimmer of amused disdain. 

“No, I’m simply not in the mood to play your little game right now,” he snarled.  “What you think you know about me is _your_ business, girl, I don’t owe you an explanation.  You don’t know what you’re talking about, that’s all.”  He turned and stalked away.

“Then, tell me,” she said, the bulk of her anger cooling with the night breeze.  He slowed to a stop.  “Why refuse, if I’m wrong?  Afraid I’ll use it against you?”  She took a step toward him, but he kept his back to her.  “Not everyone is like you, Ozai.  I won’t do that.”

His edges almost seemed to soften, but when he turned back, his eyes were hard and flinty.  He stepped before her again, leering down at her, and Katara’s breath hitched.  Ozai brought new meaning to the phrase _looks can be deceiving_.  He was deceptively beautiful for a man who wore malice like armor, a thin veneer of nectar over the venom lurking beneath.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking that just because I’ve indulged your interest before, or because you’ve saved my life, that somehow we’re there yet.  We are decidedly not.”

 _Yet_ …

That one weighted word hung between them and lodged itself in her skin like a splinter.  Her desire to understand him was startling, unsettling, but equally so was the fact that he’d been willing to divulge any of it to her at all.  For him to reveal glimpses of his past, the pain that had carved pieces out of him.

So why, then, did he snap at her like a wounded animal every time she so much as referenced Ursa?  What must have happened between them to make him so hostile at the mere mention of her?  _Yet_.  That quiet nod to the possibility.  Katara could tell that if a day ever came when he finally told her, it would not be easily earned.

Ozai turned away and took up pace again, and Katara followed quietly.  They walked for a while longer, their silence punctuated by the meadow’s chorus of peepers and crickets, the whisper of grass as they walked.  The night was still streaked with faint wisps of light, stars scattering across the sky, when they finally stopped beneath a lonely tree, towering and ancient, its wild green branches bowed toward the earth like vines. 

“We’ll settle here for the night,” he said, dropping the satchel to the ground.  “More hidden from any prowling animals.”  Ozai unbelted his blade, resting it against the vast trunk of the tree, and then sank down, reclining across the mossy earth at the foot of the knotted trunk.

Katara shifted on her feet, rubbing a hand down her forearm.  Unwanted, the memory of the previous night spent sharing a bed, so close, squeezed her stomach.  Their sleeping bags would have at least provided a natural barrier now, but without them, lying down beside him felt incredibly awkward given the last time they slept together.

 _Next to each other!_ she corrected quickly.

“What are you waiting for, waterbender?” he grumbled, his eyes half-closed.

The disparaging nickname cut through her thoughts and Katara scowled and crossed her arms. 

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You did.”  His tone was flat, indifferent.  “Now lie down and go to sleep.”

Katara expelled a short, audible breath.  Unbelievable.  She saved his life and he still couldn’t just call her by her name.  Katara scolded herself for being surprised.  Why should she have expected anything different from him?

With an indignant huff, she plodded over and dropped to the ground a safe distance from where Ozai was lying and slumped onto her back, her hands knotted tightly over her stomach.  She shivered at the sudden contact with the cool earth and let it slowly diffuse the heat of her annoyance.  The man was incorrigible.  It was wasted energy being angry when he didn’t seem to care one way or another.

A breeze weaved through the tangle of vine-branches arching over them like a tent, patterns of moonlight shifting and flickering where it filtered through.  The leaves whispered softly and Katara sighed.  She could already tell it would be a restless night.  The portly, round globe of a moon gleamed gold where it hung low in the sky and she could feel her chi swelling within her, a tide drawn toward it.  Her mind began to wander, as it often did on nights like these.  Katara closed her eyes and absently ran her fingers over the bare skin of her wrists.

Ozai had left her hands untied.  Not only that, but he also hadn’t bothered to bind up her ankles tonight the way he always did when they stopped for sleep.  She knew it wasn’t for lack of forethought.  Everything the man did was calculated, deliberate.  Neither of them had made a single mention of the glaringly obvious shift from their norm.  Like a giant elephant-moose in the room that both were pretending to ignore.  Was he testing her?  Was it a small gesture of trust on his part?  A roundabout way of saying thank you?

Katara wasn’t sure.  But the implication of it all had hung heavy in the air between them ever since.  In sideward almost-glances, in the easing of their postures, the looser cadence of their steps.  He may still be using slurs to address her, but there was no denying the gesture was a quiet admission that something had changed.  She chewed her lip.  Unease gnawed at her like a worm at the core of an apple, and Katara was grateful for it – she _should_ feel uneasy.  It was what stirred underneath it all, the faint tingle of something else, that disturbed her.

The moon climbed its way up the sky as Katara lied awake.  She stared up through the leaves at the vast darkness, at the wealth of stars shining now like sugar spilled over black marble, and finally sat up with a soft sigh.  Sleep was not going to come.  At least not easily.  Katara was used to nursing this side of her power.  She had learned early on that when her chi grew restless with the full moon, the thing that helped the most was immersing herself in her element.  Waterbending always seemed to take the edge off and soothe her enough to eventually find sleep.

They had been following a snaking river for the better part of their journey, and she’d seen a bend of it glimmering distantly across the meadow.  Just a short walk and she was sure she could find it.  Katara made sure that Ozai’s breaths were the low, even ones of sleep.  And then she rose and started off across the rolling, moonlit sea of grass.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai stirred from a light sleep.  The cool summer night hummed around him but he kept his eyes closed, grasping at the fading threads of sleep but his mind resolved to wander of its own accord.  The tall grass scratched at his skin in a breeze.  The meadow was a welcome break from the long, maddening expanse of Earth Kingdom forest, but it also meant their only source of cover was gone.  The risk of them being spotted had risen considerably, but as they grew closer to civilization now, it also meant that they were nearing Guo Yang.  Lu Da must be wondering where the hell he was by now, probably starting to question if he’d met an untimely demise.

 _“It’s a miracle you’re even standing here now.”_   The girl’s words punctured his thoughts.

Miracle _._   Ozai had always hated the word.  A meaningless term driven by human ignorance.  But now, as the memory surged back uninvited – his body bleeding of life like water down a drain, his mind slipping away – he grudgingly allowed it to take on a new understanding.  The girl called it a miracle.  He might simply say he was lucky.  Either way, there was no disputing that he shouldn’t be alive.

The whole of it was exasperating.  Ozai couldn’t wrap his mind around why she had done it.  He had given her no reason to save him and every reason to let him die.  She _should_ have let him die, should have left him there choking on blood.  That, he would understand.  It would have been well-deserved, justified on her part, and he might have even respected her for it.  But this…

_Worthless.  Good-for-nothing waste of air._

His father’s scathing words echoed distantly and his nostrils flared in a breath.

_I can’t stand the sight of you.  The only useful part of you ran down your mother’s leg when she fucked her lowly side-piece of a boyfriend._

Ozai leaned his mind away from it but the poison still festered in his corpse of a heart.  Whatever her reason, it surely wasn’t that she saw him as worth saving.  She couldn’t.  He _wasn’t_.  An uncomfortable thread of unease pulled tight.

The memory of that biting grip of cold inside his ruined chest sent a chill through his blood.  He could still see the girl’s indigo eyes leaning over him, that bewildering tinge of worry on her face, as the cold had broken into blistering heat.  Suddenly, an echo of that unwelcome feeling rushed back to him, the ashes rekindling to an ember – the desire to touch her, to brush his fingertips to her tawny skin.  A tight knot coiled in his gut and he quickly forced the thought away.

Despite himself, he cracked his eyes open and cast a cursory glance at the waterbender.

But there was only flattened moss and knotted roots where she should have been.  The girl was gone.

Panic shot through him.  In the span of a breath, Ozai was on his feet, his eyes frantically scouring for any trace of her.  How long had she been gone?  What direction had she run?  _Dammit!_   Ozai snatched up his blade, fastened it at his side even as he recognized with a cold spike of fear just how useless the weapon was against her now.  He had seen what she could do, had experienced her raw power first hand.  And now she was unrestrained.  What a fool he had been, to think he could trust her.

With a tight breath, he forced his racing mind to slow and take in his surroundings.  There had to be some sign of her.  And after a moment, he saw it.  It was so subtle he had almost missed it.  The rolling, silvery plain – it rippled.  A narrow strip of grass bent ever so slightly, leaning like a path away from the tree.  Ozai took off after it.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Katara walked gently, taking care not to disturb anything, the way her people taught her as a little girl.  She balanced lightly on the balls of her feet and rolled into each step.  Of course, these plains were different than the snowy terrain she had grown up in.  No ice to crunch beneath her feet, for starters.  And here, on the soft earth where the meadow met the riverbank, she was as close to silent as one could get. 

The sound of flowing water was steady and soothing, like a blanket of peace over her restless mind.  The river’s steady hush loosened her muscles and Katara closed her eyes and focused on the gentle _shhhhhh_.  A thin stream of water broke away, catching shards of the moon as it rippled and ribboned up into the air at her will, and then another, the two streams interlacing and weaving like a pair of serpents locked in a graceful dance.

Nights like these, she let herself get lost in her element, welcoming its hypnotic ebb and flow, its healing rhythm.  Time fell away and her troubles with it.

The world was full of shadows and moonlight, all pressed together in harsh relief, shadows somehow sharper than they ever were in daylight.  Sounds seemed sharper, too, in darkness.  The sigh of a breeze in her ears. The musical splatter of water.  The crack of a twig.

Katara turned lazily, half expecting to see nothing, maybe a wandering animal.  Instead she saw a large, familiar figure, cross-armed and silhouetted against the moonlight, his edges frosted silver.  She gasped with a jolt and tried to force her heart back down her throat.

“How long have you been standing there?” she snapped.

“Longer than you’d like,” came the gruff reply.  He stood there with his arms crossed and even in the darkness, Katara could see the sharp note of tension in his bearing.  “What are you doing out here?”

“Waterbending.”  Her tone was too light, revealing the tartness beneath.

“I can _see_ that.”  He took a step toward her and Katara fought the urge to draw back.  In the pale light of the moon, Ozai’s porcelain face was sculpted in planes and angles, masculine, hard.  “What are you doing out here?” he asked again, pointedly.

 _Away from him_ , he meant.  Katara’s mouth pinched. 

“I couldn’t sleep.”  He studied her with a note of distrust, a slight knit of his brow, and she elaborated with a shrug.  “Full moon.  It happens sometimes.  Waterbending helps.”

There was a small pause.  And then before she could retreat Ozai was before her, wrapping his hands firmly around both her wrists.  The air around her seemed to shiver and a breeze brushed cool against her skin.

“Do you think it wise to test the limits of your newborn freedom so soon?”  His voice was low in the stillness of night.  He raised up her wrists between them, drawing her closer.  “Do not make me regret this.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she retorted with a slight edge.

Ozai cast her a tight-lipped frown.  “You will stay put if you expect this arrangement to remain permanent.”

“I’m not a dog, Ozai.”  Her eyes narrowed with a bitter twist of her mouth.  “You don’t get to command me.”

“But I will put a leash back on you if I have to,” he rumbled, tightening his grip.

Katara set her jaw.  She tipped her chin up, meeting his burning gaze with a fire of her own and curled her fingers, contorting them like clawed talons.  With a sharp inhale, Ozai’s chest stiffened and his eyes snapped wide with equal measures of spite and fear.  The barest trace of a smile, bold and defiant, rested on her lips.

“You could try,” she said softly, tilting her head with a daring look.

Ozai’s heart hammered and throbbed hard against her hold.  She could feel the intense power of his energy pushing back, struggling to break away but the full moon grinned above and he was trapped, entirely at her mercy.  Her power brushed up against the rugged seams, still tender in their newness, where she’d knit the fibrous flesh of his heart back together.  Still, she squeezed a little tighter and watched his eyes widen further, his nostrils flare against the raw ache as he fought to take in air before she finally let go.  

His chest loosened with a sudden, sharp breath and Katara let the warning steep in the tense silence that rushed in.  If she _were_ going to stick around – not that she _was_ , she simply wasn’t sure where she’d go yet – she wouldn’t allow him to tie her up like some animal.  Not again.

Ozai glared rancorously through the traces of fear and discomfort left behind his eyes, his hands clamped like a vise around her wrists.

“I could have run,” she said, discarding the edge in her voice.  “But I didn’t.  Let that be enough.”

“It _isn’t_ ,” he hissed.  “Not when you’ve yet to agree to help me.”

“Until you tell me exactly what I’m to do, I won’t agree to _anything_.”

They stood there, locked in a silent scowl until finally Ozai gave a blink, long and hard, and broke her gaze with a guttural sigh.  When he found her eyes again, his face bore the quiet gloom of resignation.  He was feasibly outmatched, and he knew it.  At least here, beneath a full moon.

“It’s late,” he said, softer.  He let one of her wrists fall away, but kept her other one clasped as he turned and took a half step toward the meadow.  “Come back, at least try to get some sleep before sunrise.”

A corner of her mouth tipped down.  But despite herself, Katara let him lead her.  She took a few paces alongside him across the meadow before Ozai finally let go of her wrist.  Neither of them said anything more as they returned to the tree and reclined again across the cool, mossy ground.  Katara inched just a bit further from him for good measure and curled in on herself to keep warm and, at last, she felt the heavy shroud of sleep enfolding her.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The meadow was coming alive with birdsong, the sky lined with the first blush of dawn as Ozai rested back against the twisted, furrowed tree trunk, arms crossed loosely.  He watched the girl from where he sat, her slender form still curled in sleep, arms tucked into her chest, brown waves fanning out around her head like a halo.  He could wait a few more minutes for her to awake before he’d have to disturb her.

It wasn’t lost on him, that fact that she hadn’t tried to escape, that she had stayed, so far, of her own accord.  Neither was he oblivious to what that might mean.  That, however slowly, she was softening to the notion of helping him, whether she’d admit it or not.  It had been a risk of course, untying her hands.  But given that she’d gone to the trouble to save him from the brink of death, it seemed the perfect time to test the waters.  Throw her a thin line of trust.  After all, what better way to earn _her_ trust than to extend a small offering of peace?

He still couldn’t quite understand why she hadn’t attempted to run.  There was no denying the part his son’s well-timed wedding had played in her shift.  The public humiliation she’d brought on herself.  But perhaps the prime chisel that had shaped it had been his own.  Letting her in, little by little, catering to her sympathy.  Uncomfortable a turn as it had taken – the girl’s unexpected, bewildering interest, her disquieting itch to know more – it had relaxed her toward him significantly.  It was a development he was not going to waste.  He needed to coax every last drop of advantage from the situation before it could take a turn otherwise.

The waterbender stirred slightly with a soft breath, the heaviness of sleep beginning to lift like a veil.  Ozai knew he had to tell her what his plan with her was.  By the end of the day he expected to be joining up again with Lu Da.  If all went well, he would have the scroll translated and it wouldn’t be long before Ozai would need the girl to fulfill her part.  He had waited initially, not wanting risk her shutting down, causing further trouble.  But he knew an opportunity when it presented itself.  If ever there was a time to breach the subject, it was now.

He would need a gentle approach, a softer touch to warrant the best possible response.  Of course, if he told her everything, she would never cooperate.  Not if she knew she would be sealing the destruction of the Avatar.  But she didn’t have to know the _whole_ truth.  He only needed to arm her with just enough information to do what he needed done.

She gave another soft sigh, uncurling like a fern along the mossy ground, and finally opened her eyes and sat up.  The girl blinked rapidly and stiffened when she realized he was already looking at her.

“You were watching me sleep?” she said, not quite a question, the words like quills, sharp and prickling.

“Don’t flatter yourself.  I didn’t enjoy it half as much as you’d like to think.”  His voice was flat, bored.  “Managed to get some sleep after all, I see.”

“A little,” she grumbled faintly.  Her eyes slid to the ground, still laden with sleep.

Ozai reached into the satchel at his side and retrieved the last sack of rice cakes.  He pulled one out and took a bite as he rose and sat down beside her, suppressing a smile at the way she leaned subtly away.

“Better eat,” he said, holding out a rice cake.  “We need to move on.”

Her mouth pressed into a line but she took it and ate her share, glancing toward him uncomfortably from the corner of her eye.  When she had finished, a little too quickly, she moved to get up but he grabbed her wrist to pull her back down, tethering her there.  He could practically see her bristle as her eyes snapped up to his.

“What?” she asked tersely.

“I know I never said thank you–”

She snorted.  “Obviously.  Is that all?” 

“No.”  He tilted his head with a hard blink.  “If you’d let me finish…  You were right, I should have.  What you did…”  He took a breath in, tempering his tone so it emerged again warmer, silken.  “I owe you my life.  So…  Thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed and lingered on his before dropping to the ground with a frown.  She didn’t respond, and after a moment the girl tugged her hand against his, attempting to rise again, but he held fast.  She glanced back up with a scowl.

“Is there something else?” she spat.

“There is,” he replied coolly.  “I thought we might discuss the matter of why you’re here.”

The girl knit her brow and gave a pithy laugh.  “All the times I’ve asked, all the annoying, dodging, vague answers, and now, for no reason at all, you decide you want to tell me?”

“You said it yourself.  You can’t agree to something you don’t know.”

“What, like you’re giving me a choice?”

“Your arms and legs are free,” he said with a slight brush of his thumb along her wrist for emphasis.  A muscle in her arm tensed beneath the touch and her cheeks flushed faintly.  He suppressed a smirk.  He still hadn’t tired of this game, the amusement of watching her squirm.  “Nothing’s stopping you, yet here you are.  One might infer your choice has already been made.”

Her eyes hardened.  “Don’t make assumptions for me.”

Ozai frowned and tried to keep the annoyance from rising up his throat.  “I’m giving you the answer to your question of why I need you.  But if you’d rather I didn’t–”

“Fine,” she cut in, releasing a sharp breath.  “Okay.  Let’s talk.  But let go of me.”

Ozai was almost certain if she could sprout literal quills and embed them in his arm, she would.  With a quiet smirk, he let his fingers slide from her naked wrist as she yanked her arm back.  Her eyes were a clear glacier blue, the color of ice in a place that never thaws.  And yet there was a fire in her that could put some firebenders to shame.  She studied his face cagily, waiting as he gathered the words.

“There are two portals in the world that act as gatekeepers to a set of pillars.  These pillars are connected to the cosmos, the beating heart of the world’s energy,” he began.  “You may have seen the two stones that were in the satchel Lu Da took with him.  There are two more I’m searching for.  When fitted together, they act like a key but can only be activated by a bender of each element.  However, there is a way to bypass that requirement.”

She arched a brow. 

“There’s a ritual that only a bloodbender can perform.”  He tilted his head toward her with a shrewd smile.  “And that’s where you come in.”

“Why do you want to open these portals?  What does that do?”

“You’re aware that the Avatar took my firebending away.  I want it back.  Seeing as it’s very unlikely he would ever oblige such a request, opening the portals, deactivating the pillars’ cosmic energy, will unblock whatever the Avatar did to my chi, potentially allowing my bending to return.”

And there was the lie.  Whether or not the girl would buy into it didn’t matter.  He just needed something to tell her, something she couldn’t prove or disprove either way.  The portals had no bearing on his bending, of course, and couldn’t give it back.  This was about revenge, retribution.  About obliterating the Avatar line once and for all, and that boy with it.  

“Wait, hold on.  If you think I’m gonna help you regain your bending just so you can hop back on your high horse of power and try to take over the world–”

“Who said anything about taking over the world?  You think that’s what this is about?”  She eyed him skeptically and he met her with steady poise.  Ozai watched her look away, chewing her lip as she digested his words.  A bird darted into the rolling sea of green, fluttering up from the grass with a wriggling cricket as she looked back again, hesitantly.

“You said _potentially_ allowing your bending to return.  You’re not sure?”

“It’s just a theory.  Nothing’s certain, of course.  But it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“At my expense,” she said bitterly and Ozai gave back a dry, tight smile.

“I’m not asking you to cut off a limb or sacrifice a child or drain the blood of a virgin,” he scoffed.  “I’m simply asking you to do a little bloodbending.  Something I’d say you’ve proven yourself to be rather capable of recently.”  A slight edge rimmed his tone and she blinked and looked away.  He knew she was remembering it too – last night at the river.  “I expect it will be quite simple.”

“You _expect_?”  She looked back up and quirked a brow.  “What if you’re wrong?  You’re not a bloodbender, how would you know?”

“The scroll should offer some clarity.  We’ll know more once we reconnect with Lu Da.  How dangerous do you really think a bloodbending ritual can be?  Just a little cut, your blood on the stones when you connect them–”

“If it’s that _simple_ , why wouldn’t you just tell me before?”

“Because I wasn’t sure I could trust you not to cause more trouble once you knew.”  A little truth made a lie stronger.  He watched as that word took root behind her eyes.  _Trust_.  She looked away.  The girl drew her knees up, hugging them to her chest, and stared off across the rippling meadow.  After a long moment, she spoke again.

“So, I do this _very simple_ bloodbending thing, open the portals for you, and… that’s it?”  She raised an incredulous brow.  “That’s all you need me for?”

“Rather unexciting, I know.  My apologies,” he smirked and she returned it with a faint frown.

For a while she sat there, quiet, next to him.  He watched her watch the wind weaving through the wild grass and was starting to think the girl might have shut down for now, that he would have to swallow his impatience, when she finally spoke again.

“You have to promise you’ll let me go after I do.”

“I already gave you my word on that.”

“And if you do get your firebending back, I also need your word that you won’t purposely use it to try to hurt or oppress anyone again.”

Considering, his bending wasn’t even part of the arrangement–

“You have my word on that too.  Anything else?  Or are you stalling now?”

A breeze swept a wavy lock of hair across her face and she tucked it back behind her ear, a corner of her mouth tugging down.

“Fine,” she grumbled at last, almost too low for him to hear.  “But if I see any creepy black magic voodoo anywhere on that scroll, my answer is subject to change.”

Ozai frowned.  “ _Not_ how this is going to work.  This is a binding agreement.”

“Or, I could just refuse now,” she said, her tone light with careless scorn. 

“Only if you’d prefer I tie you up and carry you again.  Perhaps you’d like that.” 

Color flared on her cheeks and her exotic blue eyes seethed.  She turned away, her hands clamped white-knuckled tight around her legs, and Ozai let out a silent sigh.  The girl had a way of getting under his skin.  He was losing control of the situation, and he needed her to agree to this.  If there was ever a time to tap into her sympathy, it was now.

“Try to imagine,” he went on, leaning toward her slightly and forcing a softness back into his tone.  “Your bending being sucked away, such an integral part of you suddenly… erased.  Firebending was as much a part of me as my heart or my lungs.  When the Avatar took it, he cut a piece out of me.”  The words stung with bitter truth and he braced himself against the rawness of it.  It wasn’t all a lie.  “It’s a void I cannot fill, an infinite thirst that will never be slaked.  I just want to feel whole again.  That’s all.”

Just as he had hoped, something in her expression loosened, a note of tension dissolving in her frame.  After a while, the girl sighed and cast her eyes to the mossy earth at her feet.  The music of the meadow droned around them, dawn’s chorus of trilling birds, chirring grasshoppers.

“Alright.  I’ll do it,” she said quietly at the ground.  A whispering wind carried the scent of wild heather and tousled the hair at her temples. 

“There now,” he simpered.  “Was that really so hard?”  Ozai stood and offered a hand down to her for good measure.

“Hm, I don’t know, was it really so hard for you to tell me thank you?”  She snubbed his hand with a frown and pushed herself to her feet.  Ozai drew his arm back, glowering, as she folded her arms across her chest and started walking.  “Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible.”


	20. Moon Above, Sun Below

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I should start putting my author's notes where they belong. Hashtag Ao3 Noob. A huge thanks to those who are still reading and reviewing, despite the slow updates. (Real life/Adulting/Momming = slow output.) *Big* things are coming soon, so I hope you stick around.

“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do?  You’re _doctors_ , aren’t you?”

The two physicians flinched at Zuko’s tone, their forms mirrored in the stark, polished floor of the royal infirmary.

Reizo, the balding middle-age man with a round center, held his hands up calmly but he spoke with a nervous stammer.  “Y-yes, Fire Lord.  But when vomiting is this severe, it’s not uncommon to lose fluid faster than can be replenished.  We are all trying our best, but she’s been able to keep very little down.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Zuko demanded.  “What about the bleeding?  Is she losing the baby?”

Reizo’s head shone with beads of sweat as he glanced at his colleague.

“This degree of morning sickness is extreme but not unusual,” Orika said in her soothing voice.  The older woman with neatly coiffured hair and kind, tired eyes.  “Many patients improve after the first trimester.  As for the bleeding…”  She trailed off and hesitated briefly, folding her hands together.  “It’s difficult to say.  I’m afraid when it occurs this early on–”

“Lady Mai is likely no more than ten weeks along, Fire Lord,” Reizo cut in gently.  “Regrettably, it’s still too early for the baby to be saved if she were to miscarry.”

Zuko exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead.  A faint, gentle hand brushed tentatively against his arm, once, and Zuko opened his eyes.  Orika tried to smile back, her eyes warm and tender.

“There is still hope,” she said.  “Some bleeding _can_ be normal.  If she rests very strictly and eats and drinks as much as she’s able, there is a chance she will stabilize and the pregnancy will progress.”

 _Still a chance_.  There was also a chance they could lose the baby, that Mai could perish of malnutrition or start bleeding out.  Zuko felt sick.  Through the fog of his thoughts, he vaguely registered the click of a door and a set of quiet footsteps shuffle behind him.

“Excuse me, Fire Lord–?”

“What?!” he snapped, spinning to find Jing, his head servant, flash a look of genuine fear.

“A thousand pardons,” he flinched back with a groveling bow.  “Forgive my intrusion, my lord, but… an ambassador from the Earth Kingdom has arrived and is asking to speak with you.  She claims to have news and that it’s urgent.”

Zuko’s lips pressed into a white slash as he turned back to the doctors.  “I expect to be notified immediately of any changes, good or bad.  Am I understood?”

“Of course, my Lord,” the two said in unison, bowing as Zuko stalked from the infirmary in a billow of robes.

Zuko took a deep breath to compose himself as he followed Jing through the halls and into his office.  A stately woman sat in a chair before his desk – an impressive high-back mahogany with ornately carved arms – flanked by a statue-still Earth Kingdom guard, tall and brawny.  She rose as he entered, bowing with smooth, practiced grace. 

“Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Ambassador Hato,” he returned with a respectful nod.

“Thank you for meeting on such short notice.  We were going to send a messenger hawk to relay this correspondence, but King Kuei thought this might be better handled in person.  I had the honor of travelling on one of the airships you gifted the Earth Kingdom upon your coronation.  Quite impressive, the speed.”

Zuko gave a small _Hmm_ of acknowledgement but couldn’t bring himself to play along.  He was in no mood for pleasantries.  “What news do you have?” he said, cutting straight to the chase.

The ambassador’s forced diplomatic smile slid from her face and she stood taller, cleared her throat.  “There have been two significant developments in the search for Ozai, separate incidents but we believe them to be connected.  The first of which is a heist that occurred at the College of the Ancients.”

Zuko paused and tilted his head with narrowed eyes.  “Strange.”

“Exactly.  The location alone is enough to keep most people at bay.  A stranger showed up at the door claiming to have found some ancient scroll and wanting it translated.  Turns out, it wasn’t just any scroll, but a relic that was supposed to have been locked up centuries ago.”  She tightened her lips and shook her head.  “How he managed to obtain it is still uncertain, but investigators have since spoken with the Headmaster there, and he informed us that the scroll is part of a set of artifacts directly linked with upholding the cosmos and its energy.”

He blinked. “You’re referring to the two pillars?”

“Yes.  How much do you know about them?” she asked grimly and Zuko hesitated.

“Judging from the way you said that, I’m guessing not enough.” 

In fact, he was certain of it.  The fire sages were the ones primarily involved in matters of that nature.  It wasn’t in the Fire Lord’s job description, to concern himself with such abstract affairs.  It had never occurred to Zuko before how irresponsible that might be.  He made a mental note to remedy that later.

“You’d be right,” Ambassador Hato nodded.  “As Fire Lord, you likely know more than the general population, but I’m afraid that’s not saying much.  People seem to regard it as more legend than anything these days, the gravity of it worn down by eons of complacency.”

“And what do you know about it?” Zuko asked, shifting on his feet.

“Admittedly not much before speaking with the Headmaster at the college, Sheng.  According to him, if both pillars are severed, the cosmic energy will basically implode on itself.  There will be nothing to sustain it.”

A quiver of unease gnawed at his gut.  “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It gets worse.  Supposedly, the Avatar spirit is directly tied with this energy.  If it’s destroyed, the Avatar in turn will cease to exist.  We were told this thief managed to get away with the full translated text of the scroll as well as a restricted bloodbending stone tablet that details some sort of ancient ritual.”

The words hit him like a kick to the gut.  “A _bloodbending_ tablet?”

“Precisely.”

“Katara.  So, he does need her for something.  Did Sheng elaborate on this ritual?”

“Only that it can sidestep the security measures of needing two different benders and force the portals to open.  Logically, we strongly believe that whoever this thief was, he’s somehow working with Ozai.  Which means that whatever Ozai’s plans are, it likely involves those pillars.”

Zuko exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose.  What an absolute nightmare.  All of this.  Leave it to his father to devise and carry out a revenge scheme this catastrophic.  He prayed the ambassador had started with the worst news first.

“You said there were two things.  What’s the second?”

“We received notice of a probable sighting of Ozai and Master Katara.  Fen here was one of the guards on duty.”  She nodded to the man at her side and he squared his shoulders, clearing his throat.

“Yes.  Two other guards and I were approached by a rather dubious sort, a man and a woman claiming to have had a run-in with Ozai and Katara on the Bone Road and seeking to collect the reward.”

Zuko furrowed his brow.  “You said they seemed dubious.  You don’t think they could have been lying just to get the money?”

“We questioned them thoroughly, my lord,” Fen nodded firmly.  “At first, they said what anyone could have – that she was bound up with some rope but walking beside him.  Clearly a prisoner of sorts.  They said their leader had tried to take her away, and then Ozai sliced straight through her ropes, didn’t even hesitate.  And she didn’t try to run.  According to them, he and Katara fought the lot of them off together, which struck them as odd.”

Odd, indeed, Zuko thought with a frown.  Something about that roused a note of disquiet in the pit of his stomach.  He pressed it aside for now.

“They could have made it all up.  How can you be certain?”

“They said the girl could control their bodies and threw fully grown men back three at a time.  That’s when we knew.  It’s unlikely they would have thought to fabricate such a story.  The couple claimed they still hadn’t realized who they’d come up against until they fled the scene and saw the wanted poster.”

“You’ve focused your guard’s presence in that region, I hope?”

“Yes, of course,” Fen confirmed.  “We currently have guards raking the area in a large radius around the Bone Road.  All that’s been found so far is a slew of bodies and a lot of blood, effectually verifying the couple’s claim.”

“But no sign of my father or Katara, or this other man, the thief?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid.”

Zuko sighed and looked at the floor.  With a grim twist of his mouth, he nodded and returned his gaze to the ambassador.  “Thank you for coming here to deliver this information.  And for all the Earth Kingdom is doing to aid in this search.  I am indebted to your people and King Kuei.”

“It has been my pleasure, Fire Lord.”  Ambassador Hato bowed deeply and Fen followed suit. 

Jing stepped forward from the wall and gestured regally for the ambassador and her guard to follow, ushering them out of his office as silence fell heavy in their place.

Zuko stared at the floor for a long time.  His legs felt like lead weights.  Walking slowly around the side of the desk, he slumped down into his chair, resting his elbows upon it with a thud as he fisted his hands in his hair.  Everything around him was crumbling.  Even his wife was lying sick and weak in the infirmary while he stood by useless, unable to do anything to help.  Why did nothing ever go right?

His mind spun a tangled web of thoughts.  Well… they had fought Azula’s army into retreat, so perhaps _nothing_ wasn’t entirely fair, but they had been lucky.  Word from his intelligence was that she was last seen marching her troops south, for what purpose he couldn’t yet say.  He had expected her to regroup and return with more of those mutants, not move in the opposite direction.  It made him uneasy.  She was planning something.  And when she did finally return, he doubted they would be as lucky a second time, considering what they knew now.

 _Taint_.  That’s what Matsu had called the drug the rebels were refining from the cagrium ore.  There was still no word from Azek and his team on the progress of tracking down the cagrium deposits and where the rebels might be experimenting on these benders.  If they could find their lairs and destroy them before more of these abominations could be created, maybe they still stood a chance at ending this war.  Zuko could think of no more appropriate name for such a drug, for what it did to those benders’ powers.  It was the taint of something monstrous in their blood.

His mind flashed back to the bloodbending tablet.  An ancient ritual, Hato had said.  That didn’t sound ominous at all.  He could only imagine the horrible things his father would do to Katara, or worse, had already done, to force her to comply with whatever he needed her for.  Zuko knew he should feel his blood boiling, his stomach wringing at the thought – and it did, to a degree – but there was something gnawing beneath the surface of his mind, like a termite through rotten wood.  That disquiet he’d been holding at bay since his briefing with the ambassador.

Peeling back the layers, Zuko finally allowed it to take shape.  His father and Katara had fought that band of outlaws off together.  That wasn’t so much the troubling part, as anyone would have instinctively sprung into fight or flight.  But it was what Fen had said.  How Ozai had sliced through her ropes without a second thought.  As though he’d expected Katara not to run.  And then, she hadn’t.  She could have just as easily escaped, or taken Ozai out along with the others.

Briefly, Zuko considered that perhaps she had – but then Ozai’s body would have been amongst the rest.  If she had managed to escape in the end, wouldn’t she have sought help or at least sent word that she was okay?

The likely truth squeezed his stomach like a cold, tight fist.  Ozai had cut her restraints, they’d crushed a gang of thugs, and then they’d fled together.  Had she gone with him of her own free will?  Zuko doubted his father would have been able to subdue her under a full moon.

A new thought manifested, a bolt of lightning punching through a thundercloud.  The damaging rumors that were circling…  The rumors that had nearly destroyed him, and from which he’d yet to fully recover, had mysteriously stopped after Katara’s disappearance.  There was a chance it was a coincidence, but…

Zuko still couldn’t fully bring himself to believe Katara would ever throw her lot in with Ozai for something as trivial as revenge.  What would be the point?  She certainly hadn’t seemed vengeful in those last days.  If anything, she had been warmer and more caring than normal – 

Zuko blinked and sat up straighter.  Unless it hadn’t been about revenge, but about getting back together, some sick fantasy that if she comforted him in his distress that he’d have a change of heart.  As though the choice had ever been his to make. 

He closed his eyes with a rush of breath and fisted his hair.  There was no evidence yet that she was involved in the rumors.  And though she was implicated in other crimes during that time, there was still no concrete proof.  He kept repeating the words over to himself on loop as he rose and headed for the door.  Time for a talk with the Concord Assembly.

* * *

The streets were dark and full of shadows.  Muffled little sounds, hushed voices, an animal’s cry drifted between dying buildings, through cracked windows, Guo Yang’s own frail, worn-out heartbeat.  The edges of town were lit sparsely by weak flickering lamps, moths fluttering around their hopelessly dim glow as Katara and Ozai passed silently underneath, keeping to the shadows along the side of another boarded-up structure.

The day’s journey had been nearly unbroken.  They had been walking since dawn, and now into the early hours of night and Katara was so tired.  Ozai had refused to stop for the night before they reached town.  Not when they were so close, but the weariness was starting to seep into her bones.

Somewhere just out of sight, several low, grim voices reached them on a breeze and Ozai stopped short, flattening himself against the wall and pressing Katara back with an arm.  They waited there, motionless, in the sliver of darkness where the dim lamplight didn’t reach as a faint glow emerged inside the dark, narrow channel between their building and the next.  The light jounced in its holder’s pace, casting several long, shivering shadows across the rutted road before them.

Katara knew it even before they appeared.  Guards.  They had nearly run into two other units already and they were still navigating what appeared to be the outer rim of town.  She didn’t know what normal looked like in Guo Yang but she was fairly certain this would be considered an excessive guard presence even for a place like this.

Unless, of course, they were looking for something.  Or someone.

Five Earth Kingdom guards came into view and rounded the corner away from them onto the modest main road.  How easy it would be, she thought, to just call out.  Bring an end to all of this here and now, watch Ozai return to the fate he deserved.  The one she had delivered him from.  What a stupid girl she had been then.  Desperate, her head clouded by bitterness and love and loss, driven wild by the prospect of hope.  It seemed a lifetime ago now, and maybe in some ways it was.  That girl was gone, buried in the ashes of that dream.

Ozai pressed his arm tighter where it crossed over her middle, a warning, as though some of her thoughts had been rendered tangible, and Katara watched the guards slip from view.  Yes, she could scream, make a scene.  But to what end?  She wasn’t going back to the capital.  She wasn’t ready to go back home, to face her people.  She might never be.  Even if she took her freedom by force, what would she do with it?  Besides, she wasn’t entirely _not_ -free now.  She could move freely anyway and had some degree of autonomy, and there was always the fallback of taking her freedom if she needed to.  Maybe this would give her some time to sort things out, and anyway she _had_ given him her word…

His arm finally lowered and Ozai gestured for her to follow.  They crept across the main road and into an alleyway, swallowed up by the shadows.  A sudden assault of rotting garbage and human waste knocked the air from her lungs and Katara nearly gagged, struggling to breathe as Ozai cut a hand through the air to silence her.

They continued to snake their way through the bones of the town, keeping to the dark, narrow side streets where they could.  When an alley ended and forced them back onto the center street, as it did now, Ozai stopped, Katara behind him, as he assessed the path ahead. 

The potholed main road glinted dully in the weak smolder of the streetlamps, pocked like a strip of moth-eaten cloth.  They waited, listened.  Wind moaned through the alley.  A cat hissed.  A stray animal rooted through garbage.  The way forward looked quiet, clear.  Ozai slinked around the corner and Katara followed.

They hugged the rough wooden sides of structures as they walked as quickly as silence would allow, stealing through patches of darkness, doing their best to avoid crunching over litter or kicking a chunk of debris.  Somewhere nearby a dog started barking.  It didn’t occur to Katara that the sound might drown out certain others until the guards were already coming into view.

Ozai froze and darted back into a thin pocket of shadow, yanking her behind him.  They pressed themselves flat, hardly breathing, and Katara counted six guards walking at a leisurely pace away from them, trading quiet murmurs and peering down the narrow lanes between buildings.

One of the guards – a young man at the back, hardly older than herself – half turned.  His eyes swept the road behind him, skating dangerously close to their shadowy nook.  Katara felt Ozai stiffen beside her and her own heart nearly jumped into her throat before the guard turned back around.

Somewhere behind them came the faint hum of more voices.  This portion of the main street stretched long and straight.  If they didn’t move now, they would soon be flanked by guards on either side.  Meeting her gaze sternly, Ozai pressed a finger to his lips and gestured to the next alley up ahead, where the troop of guards were just passing by.

Katara could see the tension in his bearing as Ozai held a hand up, readying to make a break for it.  She could hear the voices growing closer.  The moment stretched, pulling tight as a breath held in too long, as they waited for the guards up ahead to gain enough distance, the second unseen troop encroaching from behind.  They would have to be fast but silent if they hoped to reach the alley undetected.

Finally, when the guards were just far enough from the mouth of the alley to risk it, they crept swiftly out of the shadows, keeping flush with the wall.  They had nearly reached their target when a scrap of debris went rattling across the road in a breeze.  Katara saw the rear guard start to turn again just as she slipped into the passage behind Ozai.

It was dark.  No, not just dark.  Nearly black.  The heavy black shadows of a place devoid of light.  And now she could see why. 

The alley was a dead end.

Her foot made contact with something small and metal and sent it skittering over the ground, ricocheting off the wall of the alley.  Ozai breathed out a curse and dragged her quickly toward the back wall, behind a tall stack of wooden crates, pressing them both back into the tight slice of a gap there.

Katara could hear a voice call out and then a set of footsteps slowly entered the alley.  Ozai pressed himself tighter into the corner, trapping her firmly between his large form and the wall.  Stock-still and hardly breathing, they huddled there in suffocating closeness as heavy boots echoed inside the narrow passage.

Something stirred at her feet.  At first, she thought it might have been Ozai’s foot, but that didn’t seem right, and then there came a thin, sharp scratching against the bottom crate.  The hair lifted on her neck and down her arms as an oily, fat, furry thing, awkward and lumbering, bumped up against her leg.  Katara sucked in a breath, swallowing back a yelp as Ozai clutched a hand around her arm, digging his fingers in.

The creature, whatever it was, scratched at the crate again, at the stone floor beneath, nudging their legs as it looked for an escape.  The footsteps came closer.

“Is someone there?”

Her body was strung tight, teeth clenched, fists balled as she fought to keep from squirming.  The darkness was so thick she could just make out Ozai’s outline as he leaned into her, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke, barely a whisper.

“Do _not_ move and keep quiet.  Be ready to take him out.”

The heat of his breath lingered and the shudder of words against the shell of her ear made her shiver.  A wave of something dreadfully familiar and utterly unwanted swelled up from her center, but the greasy-furred bumbling at her legs was quick to purge any last trace of it.  Katara shook her head no – she was so tired, and if she took out one guard, it would alert the others, and there was no way they could take on that many earthbenders, tired or not.

Ozai pressed closer with a harsh and hissing, “Yes,” just loud enough for her to hear as the guard drew nearer.

“By order of the Earth King, show yourself.”

“Ruo, what is it?” another voice said.

“There’s something back here,” the first responded.

Katara choked back another cry as the thick, graceless animal managed to squeeze itself through her legs and out into the passage, its thin claws scritching against the cobbled road.  There was an audible sigh, dangerously close as it sidled out, before a third voice chortled farther back.

“ _Wow_ , nice work, champ,” the man laughed harshly.  “Just a stupid possum-rat.  What a noob.”

“Thing’s never missed a meal, look at it waddling.  Rookie’s found the rodent lord.”

“Come on, guys.”  A woman this time.  “Give Ruo a break.”

The voices receded along with the footsteps and the second unit of guards ambled past until, finally, there was nothing but quiet again, the town’s hazy, white-noise hum, and her own pulse thrumming in her ears.  Katara could feel the drum of Ozai’s heartbeat where his hard chest pressed against her side, the heat of his body, a wisp of his breath skimming a stray hair on her forehead.  An exhale shuddered past her lips.  She tried her best to ignore it but, despite herself, Katara found her eyes rising to his in the dark.  It was nearly impossible to see, but he was obviously facing her.  Was he looking back?  Katara couldn’t tell and she was grateful for the blackness that hid the molten color on her face.  Spirits, what was the matter with her?

They stayed huddled there in the dark for a while longer, their breaths normalizing, listening for a sign of any more guards.  Finally, Ozai withdrew and in the sudden resurgence of personal space Katara sucked in a breath, the shock of cool air rushing in where his warmth had been.

“Not much farther now,” he whispered.  “Let’s go.”

* * *

Lu Da paced the confines of his room, struggling to calm his restless mind.  He stopped briefly at the window again, peering out through the grimy panes to the dark, dimly lit street below and his stomach pinched.  Another group of guards, roaming past.  The third group he had seen tonight.  Not good.  Most guards in Guo Yang were paid to look the other way.  Their presence was generally thin at best.  These guards weren’t from Guo Yang.  There were too many of them, for starters.  They had a different bearing about them, an earnestness in their strides.  And he knew exactly what they were looking for.

They would have spread out in every direction from that village at the foot of the White Spire.  Combing the neighboring areas for any sign of the thief who’d stolen from the College.  He had watched a pair of guards that afternoon stop and speak to the innkeeper at the lobby door.  Eventually, they had turned away, frowning and petulant, but Lu Da knew he couldn’t stay here much longer.

Dammit.  Where was Ozai?  He should have been here by now.  The man was never anything less than punctual.  A tendril of worry curled tight in his gut.  Something had gone wrong.  He remembered the way that waterbender had gathered a massive tidal wave like it was nothing more than a puddle, the way she’d singlehandedly sunk his ship in a matter of minutes.  If she had somehow managed to get loose…

Lu Da sank down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, face in his hands as he kneaded his forehead.  It was late.  He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep.  Even if Ozai made it into town now, he’d have a hard time getting through unspotted.  What a mess.

There was an ever-growing chance that Ozai wasn’t coming.  He tried not to think about what that might mean and instead began to think of his options.  He could bail now, make himself scarce while he still could.  Go back to pirating, life on the sea, what he was best at.  He had a reputation to uphold.

_“One last thing, Lu.  Do see that you come back.  If you fail to return, I will find you.”_

No doubt word would make its way back to that old bloodhound once he reappeared on the scene.  Rinna’s face flashed through his mind and his blood pulsed hot.  No.  Before he did anything else, he would make good on his deal with his dear friend Bao Zirrik.

A faint scratching at the lock of the door.  Lu Da’s head snapped up and he jumped to his feet as the knob began to turn.  He half thought to reach for his crossbow as the door opened slightly and a moment later Ozai was slipping quickly through, the waterbender at his heels.  Lu Da exhaled a sharp sigh of relief.

“Shit,” he breathed, the knot uncoiling in his stomach.  “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

The first thing he noticed was the tattered, gaping hole in the chest of Ozai’s black tunic.  The second was that the girl was completely unbound. 

Lu Da studied her from the corner of his eye and then glanced to Ozai.  He didn’t seem to be the least bit troubled about her lack of restraints.  Lu Da wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or reassured.  He was still deliberating when Ozai tossed his decidedly limp satchel onto the bed.

“Where’s all our stuff?  Where are the sleeping bags?” Lu Da asked.  “What happened?”

“Long story,” Ozai muttered.  “Do you have the scroll translated?”

Lu Da’s mouth twisted.  “Right, nice to see you too.  Yeah, I got your damn scroll translated.  Sat through days of reclusive, highbrow hell before freezing my ass off and nearly plummeting to my death off a cliff, but yeah.”  Typical Ozai.  Straight on to business.  “This better be worth it.”

He stalked to the small satchel and withdrew the folded-up sheet of paper, torn out from Sheng’s journal, and held it out to him.

“Colder than a banshee’s tit up on that mountain,” he grumbled as Ozai walked over to retrieve it.  “You’re lucky I like you, Ozai.  Risked my life to pinch this and that heavy ass stone tablet.”

Ozai stopped before him, cocked his head.  “Stone tablet?”

“Kinda surprised you didn’t know about it.  It complements the scroll somehow.”

“Let me see it,” he said flatly, reaching out to for the paper.

Lu Da blinked and narrowed his eyes.  He snatched it back before Ozai could grasp it.

“No.  You know what?  Before I give you these, how about a thank-you or an I’m-sorry for all I’ve gone through on your behalf.”

“The city’s crawling with guards, we need to slip out while we can.  I want to read it before making our next move,” Ozai grumbled.  “Just hand it over.”

“You know… that is _not_ what an apology sounds like.”

“Seriously, what is it with you?  Just say thank you, it’s really not that hard.”  Both men turned to the girl standing behind Ozai, her arms crossed, face pursed in a grimace.  “You owe it to him, like you owed it to me.  At least pretend for one second that you’re not a completely ungrateful jerk.”

Ozai glowered and Lu Da stared, his stunned gaze sliding at length from her to Ozai.  Had she really just spoken to him that way?  _Like you owed it to me_ – what did she mean?  Ozai stood there, glaring a warning, but he didn’t chasten her.  What had happened while he was gone?

“See?” he said emphatically, waving a hand toward her.  “ _She_ gets it.”

Low, pressing voices droned from somewhere just outside.  Their attention snapped to the window and Lu Da exchanged a look with Ozai.  The two men crept to the soiled window, standing flat against either side and peering down.  Several guards stood in the door of the lobby below, speaking with the innkeeper who seemed to be relaying something.  He pointed toward their room and Lu Da darted back quickly.

“Son of an inbred.  That greasy assbadger turned us in.”

“We need to get out of here, now.”

But heavy boots were already thudding distantly up the stairs, along the rickety terrace toward their door.  Ozai turned to the waterbender.

“Do something,” he growled.

“What do you expect _me_ to do?” she said, holding her hands up.  “We can’t fight that many earthbenders.  And I’m not about to kill a bunch of Earth Kingdom guards, how’s that gonna look if they catch us?  I’m not incriminating myself.”

“I’d say you’ve done a decent job of that already.  That ship has sailed.”

“You could freeze the door shut,” Lu Da cut in quickly.  “Buy us time.  There’s a smaller window at the back we may be able to squeeze through.”

She held his gaze for a moment and then said, “I’ll need water.”

Lu Da dug out the canteen from his satchel and tossed it to the girl.  She caught it and uncorked the lid with a shaky breath, and a stream of water snaked up into the air.

“Hurry up,” Ozai rumbled.

The water soared through the air at her command and surrounded the door.  With her fingers splayed, she breathed out a puff of air and the water creaked as it froze solid, entombing the door in a strong, thick coating of ice.

Lu Da stuffed the paper back into his satchel and shouldered the bag.  “This way,” he waved, as he ushered them toward the back of the room and into the musty-aired lavatory.  The window here was smaller than the one out front, but it looked large enough for them to climb out.  He hooked his fingers under the grimy lip and shoved.  It didn’t budge.  Lu Da tried again and a dart of panic lanced through him.  He hadn’t had reason to open it before and it occurred to him suddenly that it might have been bolted shut.

There was the sharp groaning of shifting ice as the door was shoved at, heavy pounding and shouts ringing out on the other side.

“See that it holds!” Ozai barked to the girl as he shoved beside him.  Both men hoisted at the window until finally it gave a rumbling shudder and grated open.

The ice began to splinter with an ominous cracking.  Lu Da climbed through first, clutching the window’s ledge until he’d lowered himself far enough to drop down to the ground.  The landing was hard and he suppressed a grunt as he hit, righting himself in time to see Ozai funneling the girl out the window, over the sill.  She dropped down with a soft thud beside him as Ozai swung himself over and down, the satchel strapped to his back.  He had scarcely hit the ground before they tore away from the building through the darkened alleys at its rear, harsh voices barking commands in the distance.

They sprinted until streets and buildings faded to meadow and trees and kept running well into the night, long past the point of exhaustion.  The trees thickened into forest again, deep and dark, swallowing them like the belly of some giant creature, and only then did they begin to slow and finally stop.

There were no words exchanged.  There was no air left in their lungs to speak.  Silently, the three of them sank to the ground, breathless and on edge.  The densely packed trees loomed high above, slowing the ashen moonlight to a trickle through the full branches.  Lu Da knew one of them should keep watch.  But it was now closer to sunrise than sunset and they would need all the energy they could gather to keep moving come dawn.  At least right now they had the advantage of darkness – he had to squint to even make out the other two forms before him – and he supposed that would have to do for now.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The room was filled with a strange silence.  A hollow, sulking thing.  Ozai peered up at the gold-embroidered canopy above the bed.  The Fire Prince’s chambers.  He couldn’t move, all save for his eyes.  Paralyzed, a corpse with a heartbeat.  Something stirred in the corner.  A shadow, a dark figure made of harsh, uneven black lines.  Ozai followed it with his eyes as it emerged, its black streaks all evolving slowly, splitting and reshaping from the ground up into a pale, sallow body.  The thing was cold and clammy as it climbed on top of him, an impossible weight crushing his chest, wearing his father’s face, all hollowed out and glaring down at him.

Cold hands wrapped around his neck.  Ozai tried to scream, but Azulon’s monstrous mouth opened up and the scream tore out of his mouth instead, shrill and piercing, ripping into him like a giant shard of glass.  The monster, his father, chuckled – a gravelly, deep-throated rattle – and produced a large vial of clear liquid.

Ozai was powerless as his mouth was pried open and then he was choking and spluttering, sour-bitter liquid pouring down his throat in a near endless stream.  The world started spinning out of focus, his mind ripped from his body, voices from everywhere and nowhere hissing, screaming, crying.  His heart was thrashing against his ribcage and Ozai felt vomit burble up into his throat as his vision went dark.

Distantly, he was aware of the crushing weight on his chest dissolving, replaced by a warm, strong hand.  Light spread through him and he could breath again and the hand moved to his shoulder, sitting him up.  Ozai opened his eyes.  Iroh.  For the span of a breath he was there, holding Ozai up.  A mournful almost-smile as he began to flicker, like a flame in the wind, and just as quickly he was gone.

A blink and suddenly, Ozai wasn’t in the Prince’s chambers anymore.  He was in the Fire Lord’s.  From behind him on the bed, a pair of soft, warm hands came down on his shoulders, running down the bulk of his arms.  Ozai closed his eyes and felt himself loosen beneath the familiar touch.  Her lips pressed a moist trail down the broad slope of his shoulder.

“Let me see your scars, dear husband,” Ursa said against his skin.  Her hands caressed his bare back, fingertips stroking tenderly over the countless angry silvered stripes from his hips up to his ribcage.  Lips warmed his neck and he leaned into it when a sudden, searing pain cut between his shoulder blades and snatched the breath from his throat.

Ozai turned.  Ursa gazed back with hardened, woeful eyes, her fingernails slicing a deep, bloody X into the flesh of his back, over his heart.  “Your father missed a spot,” she said, her tone cold and unforgiving as the blade of a knife.  Without warning, her hand plunged through the X at his back and Ozai felt the air forced from his lungs, his throat close up as she ripped out his heart.  It throbbed between them in her grasp, and only then did he notice that her own chest was torn open, a yawning black cavity where her heart had been.

Ursa’s soulless gaze never left his, her eyes misty with unshed tears, as she began to squeeze tighter and tighter, swells of thrashing muscle bulging between her fingers.  A single tear escaped down her cheek as their eyes held, but still her grip crushed until his beating heart ruptured, shreds of sinewy tissue sagging over her wrist, blood streaming down her milky forearm.

Somewhere drifted the hazy recognition that he should feel… something.  Panic.  Sorrow.  Pain.  But he only felt numb.  Worn out.  His heavy eyes slid closed with a sigh.  An empty darkness was creeping in as his life was rushing out and he welcomed it, didn’t fight it.  He let everything fade away to the complete black nothing.

Only it wasn’t nothing.

Floating in the vast sea of darkness was a single image.  A tree, mirrored on itself as though reflected in a lake of glass.  A thin green horizon separated the two, a star-studded sky over another of vivid blue.  In a hollow amid the tangle of branches at the top was a crescent moon.  And below, in its mirror image, a blazing sun.

It began with a whisper.

_“Moon above, sun below…”_

More and more whispers joined it until it quickly swelled to a deadening, discordant wave of sound.  The ghostly voices echoed in the dark, chanting faster and faster, a feverish, frenzied mess of whispers.

_“Moon above, sun below…”_

A pressure in his head was building with every voice added to the crescendo until his vision sparked and sputtered.  His hands flew to his ears, his eyes snapping shut with a soundless scream as his head nearly fit to burst.

Ozai gasped awake, beads of cool sweat clinging to his skin.  He sat up and pawed at his chest to find it unbroken, a strong, steady pulse beneath his palms.  There was only the soft furrows of the scar under his thin tunic where the girl had hemmed life back into him.  With a sharp exhale, Ozai raked a hand through his hair and looked up to see the waterbender sit up across from him, her eyes glassy with sleep.

The forest was a melancholic wash of greys in the early light, quiet, still.  Even her vivid eyes were dulled to dusty cobalt as she looked at him.

“Bad dream?” she asked quietly.

He set his jaw, frowning, and turned his gaze to the ground.  He could still taste the sour-bitter tang of that liquid drug, the carving pain at his back, the deep, hollow pit in his heartless chest. 

A single muted chirp of a bird punctuated the silence.

“You have them a lot.”  It wasn’t a question.  His eyes crawled back to her beneath lowered brows.  “I’ve seen you wake like that before,” she said, her voice soft and husky in the ashen quiet.

The thought was strangely intimate.  That she had lain next to him on nights when he’d startled awake, gasping and slick with sweat as he’d fought off his ghosts, knowing fragments of the skeletons he kept buried in the daylight.  A faint heat crept over his skin.  He pressed the thought back as the girl held his gaze.

She wanted to ask.  To understand what plagued his nightmares.  But she hesitated and he could tell she was waiting for something.  Some sign from him.  Permission.  That simple act, however small, tugged strangely in his chest.  Mingled there amidst the intrigue he’d grown accustomed to was a glimmer of genuine sympathy in her eyes.  Ozai’s armor snapped tight.

“Mind your own damn demons, girl,” he growled softly.  “And for once, leave me to mine.”

Her brow pinched and she blinked softly, her gaze sliding away, but the girl said nothing more. 

The morning warmed quickly.  They had eaten and started out before the sun ever touched the sky.  It had been too dark then to bother trying to read the translation and Lu Da had agreed that it was best to put more distance between themselves and Guo Yang before sunrise.  They had walked for the better part of morning and were finally coming to stop in a small clearing.

Ozai and Lu Da unshouldered their bags as the girl sat down on a dead stump.  Lu Da opened his bag and retrieved the folded paper, holding it just out of range of Ozai’s hand.

“I want to hear you say it first,” he grumbled.

Ozai soured.  “What?”

“You know what.”

His lips pressed together but he sighed and smoothed his brow.  This shouldn’t be so difficult.  Not when much of this mission may not have been possible without Lu Da.  It was beyond him why the man was willing to risk so much on his behalf.  Lu Da had said once that he might consider Ozai a friend.  Ozai was hardly accustomed to friendship, but he knew the pirate did not use the word lightly.  He took a breath in.

“Thank you, Lu Da,” he muttered solemnly.  “I am in your debt.”

“Damn right you are.  Here.”

Ozai took the paper and was about to unfold it when Lu Da pulled out a rectangular slab of stone, carved with peculiar runes.  Stepping closer, Ozai noticed what appeared to be a depiction of a series of waterbending forms.  Understanding washed over him.

“You said this complements the scroll?”

“That’s what the head of that cult of knob polishers said.  Some kind of dark, ancient waterbending, or specifically bloodbending, techniques.  He said something about it being the loophole.”

Ozai nodded.  “The instructions for the bloodbending ritual.”

Lu Da crossed his arms, shifting on his feet.  “Only problem now is, how do we decipher these ancient runes?”

Ozai slid a glance to where the waterbender sat, rolling a small violet in her fingers by its stem.

“Girl,” he called out.  “Come and read this.”

Her mouth twisted but she made no move to respond, her eyes locked tight on the purple flower.  He scowled.

“I said–”

“You’ll have to start using my name if you expect me to help you,” she cut in, fixing him with a tart grimace.

Beside him, Lu Da huffed a soft breath, a fraction away from a laugh.  Ozai spared him a sharp, sideward glance before turning back to the girl with a heavy sigh.

“Katara,” he drawled, accentuating each syllable with a tight-lipped smile.  “Look at this and tell me what it says.”

“You assume I can read ancient Water Tribe hieroglyphs just because I’m a waterbender?” she scoffed, crossing her arms.

Ozai frowned, hesitating.  “Well, can you?”

She met his eyes for a long moment.  Finally, Katara rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

“Let me see it.”

As Lu Da handed the tablet to her, Ozai’s attention turned back to the rugged parchment in his hand.  Unfolding it at last, he eagerly began to read.

_One guardian stands watch in the heart of the heavens._   
_A sentinel without fingers, he points,_   
_without arms, he strikes_   
_without a mouth, he sings._   
_In the heart of the clouds where he abides_   
_does the moon thus sleep._   
_Moon above and sun below,_   
_When the two worlds meet it shall be to unite them again…_

His stomach turned to stone, hard and heavy.  He blinked and read it again.  That phrase.  The same that had been plaguing his dreams for weeks.  What in Agni’s black hell…?  He continued on, inhaling the script with rapt attention.

_More enduring than death and older than time,_   
_one mother shall remain even when the stars have burnt out._   
_Her strength unshakable in roots unseen,_   
_where the frosts of ages can never hope to touch._   
_Higher and higher does she reach yet never grows._   
_With arms outstretched, she sees the birth and life and death of all._   
_And in her breast, a path to the sun when earth and air embrace._

_A majestic beast, strong and faithful, ever stands o’er his queen._   
_On her head a crown, but not of gold._   
_In her hand many tongues but which cannot taste._   
_Her pearly labyrinth which thus she protects_   
_did bade the sun to slumber_   
_until kissed by the moon once more._

_A pair of serpents in darkness emerge._   
_Without bidding they come to grace the night_   
_yet are lost to sight at dawn by no hand of a thief._   
_Beneath bellies of luster does the earth thus stretch._   
_Six stones, six dragons standing proud in a ring_   
_to sleep until the moon and sun become one._   
_And it shall be, when worlds collide a second time_   
_two mighty twins shall fall and prepare a grave for tranquility._

Ozai stared at the page in disbelief.  A seething, tangled web of curses wove under his breath.  The entire miserable thing was written in cryptic verse.  Nothing more than a fucking riddle.  The scroll was supposed to dictate how to find the portals and the location of the other stones and how to open the portals once he had them.  He didn’t go to this much trouble only to spend time he didn’t have decoding a damned puzzle.

 _Moon above and sun below…_   It surely wasn’t a coincidence.  To see it written here after being tormented by the echoes of that phrase in dreams…  If it even was a dream.  What did it mean?  It gave him _nothing_ to go on. 

He must have muttered something foul under his breath because the girl glanced up.  “What’s the matter?” she asked, peering over his arm to glimpse the replacement scroll in his hands.  Her tone brightened.  “It’s a riddle.”

“I _know_ it’s a riddle,” Ozai grumbled, scowling at her sidelong.  “What is that smirk on your face?”

“What?” she said, deflating a measure.  “I enjoy riddles.  They’re fun.”

“There’s nothing _fun_ about this.”

“Hey,” Lu Da shrugged, “if Tsunami likes riddles, why not let her figure it out?”

The waterbender quirked a brow.  “Tsunami?”

He gave a crooked smirk.  “Couldn’t remember your name before, it’s what I took to calling you in my head.  Kinda fitting though, don’t you think, given the spectacular way you introduced yourself.”

“Oh.  Right.”  She grasped her wrist with an awkward half-smile.  “Sorry, I guess… about your ship.”

Lu Da crossed his brawny, inked arms with an amicable shrug.  “Eh, bygones, buttercup.  Apology accepted.”

“If you two are finished,” Ozai cut in sharply, “you might take note that we no longer have a destination to aim for.  We don’t know anything at all, other than guards are on our trail and now we’re faced with the _fun_ task of interpreting a puzzle and trying to decipher an ancient slab of stone.”

“So, let’s get to it.  We don’t have to know where we’re headed, just keep going until we figure it out.  A moving target’s harder to hit.”  Lu Da gestured toward the large, wilted satchel.  “Besides, we should look for a market, stock up on some supplies.  Seems some new sleeping bags are in order.”

Lu Da cast him a probing look but held back the question.  It was just as well.  Ozai was in no mood to recount the incident that had nearly claimed his life on the Bone Road.  Pocketing the paper, he took the stone slab from the girl and returned it to the satchel, slinging it over his shoulder with stark finality.

“Alright, keep your secrets,” Lu Da muttered.  Taking the cue, he shouldered the other bag and his crossbow with a dry smirk.  “Let’s get our asses moving.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ozai.  Life’s not fair, is it? Writing that scene, I kept thinking of Ralphy in A Christmas Story: “REMEMBER TO DRINK YOUR OVALTINE.  …  Ovaltine?  Son of a bitch.”


	21. Hearts of Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter ;-) Many thanks for reading!

“Is that thing heavy?”

Lu Da stood, resting his crossbow against a tree and wiping dirt from the barrel.  The day had warmed well past comfortable and forced them to take a break by midafternoon.  Stone tablet in her lap, Katara was watching him now from where she sat on a bed of spongy moss.  At the question, he slid her a glance.

“Thing?” Lu Da scoffed, aghast, turning back to his weapon.  “Did you hear what she called you?”

Katara cleared her throat to mask the laugh, brushing a damp curl from her forehead.  “I’m sorry…  Does it have a name or something?”

“Of course she does.”  He gave the engraved wooden stock a tender pat.  “Soraya’s the only girl who’s never let me down.  Been through a lot together.”

“Soraya.”  Her lips twitched in a poorly repressed smile, blue eyes dancing.  “Why name your bow?  It’s just an object.”

“It’s a crossbow.  One of a kind.  I trust her more than most people.”

“ _Most_ people.”  Her smile slid into a frown, eyes flicking past him.  “You trust Ozai?”

Lu Da followed her gaze to where the man sat alone, dark and brooding, parchment in hand.  Shrugging a shoulder, he replied, “I do.  More or less.  Not what you want to hear, I know.  You’re certainly justified to hate him.”

Katara’s mouth pinched.  “I don’t know if I hate him exactly, but… sometimes I think if he was on fire and I had water, I’d drink it.”

“Ouch.”  He feigned a grimace.  Katara smirked and Lu Da returned it, coming to sit down at the foot of a tree across from her, crossbow on his lap.  “Eh, Broody Brow’s not all bad though.  Mostly bad…?”  He leaned back, a sigh, crossing his legs.  “Well, yeah, I could give you that.  But he has some reasons for being the way he is.”

She huffed softly, looked away.  “So I’m learning.”

For just an instant, the world stilled.  “You are?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“He’s told me a few things,” Katara shrugged faintly.

Lu Da raised a brow, cocked his head.  _Fuck me running._   Gone for barely a week and he comes back to the aloof master sharing bits of his tortured past with his captive?

“You must have an uncanny way with words, chickadee,” he said.  “Ozai’s not exactly the chatty type.”

“I don’t know.  I just… asked about the scars on his back one day.  He told me his father did it.”  She chewed her lip, looked at the ground.  “I guess it made me curious and I kinda… kept asking more after that.”

A soft snort.  “And he let you?”

“Well, not always.”  She glanced up, mouth pulling to the side.  “Sometimes he threatened me.”

Lu Da nodded, laughed softly.  “Yup.”

Silence crept in as they sat there, insects droning in the somnolent heat.  Above, a pair of birds warbled tirelessly.

“How well do you know him?” Katara asked at length.

“Well enough to know that very few actually do.  Ozai doesn’t make a habit of revealing personal stuff.  He keeps that shit locked up tight.”

Which was why he found it so odd that Ozai would let this girl in at all.  What was his motive?  The man never did anything that wasn’t thoroughly calculated.  Perhaps he had taken his advice after all and lightened his tactic to make things easier for him with Katara.  Ozai was a practiced manipulator, he was certainly capable of it.  And though Lu Da knew it could explain why she was without restraint, and the air between them seemed different now, it was far too quick for that to have brought about such drastic change so quickly.  There had to be something more.

“Do you know what happened between him and Ursa?”

Lu Da eyed the girl for beat, considering her.  “No.  It’s one thing he’s always refused to talk about.  I asked once.  Only once.  Learned my lesson after that.”

As Katara likely did, he surmised.  Why did she care?

“Am I _interrupting_ something here?”

A deep voice cut in from above and he turned, looked up.  Ozai frowned back with an edge of displeasure, eyes cutting briefly to Katara and back.  Lu Da gave a cool shrug.

“Not at all,” he replied, meeting the intimidating man’s hard gaze with control, hoping he hadn’t overheard the last bit.  Lu Da held his mask steady as Ozai’s brow furrowed.  Truly, it was a miracle the man’s perfect forehead wasn’t etched with permanent scowl lines.

“Then you won’t mind taking over for a while,” Ozai, grumbled at last, holding out the creased paper and Lu Da took it with silent relief.  He hated riddles, but only a fraction less than he hated an angry Ozai.  “Your turn to work on this cursed thing.  How much farther till we reach a market?”

“Last I checked,” Lu Da nodded at the rolled-up map sticking out of the small bag, “probably not till tomorrow.”

Ozai’s frown tugged downward, his attention shifting to Katara who had returned to studying the tablet.  “Girl…”

The air seemed to shiver.  Blue eyes crawled coldly from the stone slab on her lap to Ozai, and if a look could say _fuck you_ , hers shouted it from the rafters.

Ozai closed his eyes with a small, silent sigh.  “Katara,” he began again, lower, a note of quiet resignation.  “Any progress?”

Her edges softened.  “A little.  It would help if I had something to write with.”

“Might be able to pick up some charcoal and paper at the market,” Lu Da offered.

Ozai nodded and leaned down to retrieve the map.  “I think we’ve rested long enough.  We have a few hours yet till dusk.  I’ll lead for a while, you study the scroll as we go.”  Ozai motioned to the scrawled translation in his hand and Lu Da glanced down at it once, gave a nod as he climbed to his feet.

“Can’t promise anything,” he said, gathering his effects.  Katara stood and handed the tablet back to Ozai.  If anyone should have a go at the riddle, it was her.  At least she enjoyed it.  But he supposed Katara had her work cut out for her.  “But I’ll see what I can do.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The days were stretching long, the summer solstice looming close on the horizon.  Heat and exhaustion drove the three of them to retire early in a tangled glade, glowing with the rich, warm blush of evening sun.

Ozai sat on a large rock protruding from the earth, cool and grey and spattered with lichen, Lu Da whittling a stick against a nearby tree.  No amount of the puzzle had been cracked despite the captain’s efforts and Ozai had taken over again, studying it now with grinding teeth.  At this rate, they could be wandering aimlessly until the next avatar was reborn.  Drawing a long breath, he steeled his focus and started again.

 _One guardian stands watch in the heart of the heavens._  
_A sentinel without fingers, he points,_  
_without arms, he strikes_  
_without a mouth, he sings –_

“I feel disgusting…” a voice buzzed distantly.  “…to the river to wash these layers of sweat away before sleep.”

Ozai only half-registered the words, glancing up just long enough to see Katara trudging past, tousled hair twisted in a knot as she fanned her neck.  Back down to the paper in hand.  He frowned, his thoughts straying.

The girl was an enigma.  He couldn’t quite understand her and that frustrated him.  It was a strange and unfamiliar hindrance, master of the human mind as he was, and perhaps that was why she had grown to intrigue him.

Katara ought to be afraid of him.  He had given her every reason to be.  But not only did it seem she no longer feared him, the girl had even gone so far as to save him from certain death.  And since then, had stayed with him of her own free will when nothing was stopping her now from making an escape.

She should very well hate him.  He wanted her to hate him.  Yet Katara exuded every aspect to the contrary.  Where he had only meant to reel her in with pieces of his story, she had instead shown genuine sympathy and interest to a degree he hadn’t anticipated.  He had only desired her cooperation.  He had no want of her sympathy.  Her face flashed, sincere compassion in the grey morning light, and something writhed inside him.  Ozai forced himself from the thoughts, throwing his focus back to the riddle.

A guardian standing watch in the heart of the heavens.  What did it mean?

What could point without fingers?  Strike without arms?  Sing with no mouth?

He rubbed the edge of his jaw, a thought unfurling.  Ozai sat up straighter.  A clock, perhaps?  It was something to consider.  But still maddeningly unhelpful.

 _In the heart of the clouds where he abides_  
_does the moon thus sleep._  
_Moon above and sun below,_  
_when th–_

A shimmer of light caught in the corner of his eye.  On impulse, Ozai looked up.

Water glinted, curving up from the river in a gentle arch at Katara’s command as she stepped gracefully out of the bubbling current and onto the riverbank.  Almost entirely naked.  Only meager white bindings covering her breasts and nethers.  White bindings that were now very wet.

A bolt of heat shot down his center.  His eyes brushed over her figure quickly and wrenched away. 

Or rather, that was what he intended.  But she was so beautiful…  A detail he’d noted in passing that only a blind man would miss, but it struck him now so completely that he found himself staring.  At her sultry curves, her wild, exotic locks cascading over her bare shoulders, the last of the day’s sunlight gleaming gold on her wet skin.

Ozai’s heartbeat pulsed in his hands, the overwhelming longing to touch that skin crashing over him anew.  He tore his eyes away from her with force.  Throat tight, Ozai returned to the riddle but the words evaporated as quickly as he could read them.  He clutched the paper in his hand, rubbing a brow.

Why couldn’t he bury it?  This feeling had been only a phantom.  The transient spawn of blood loss and delirium and the girl’s immense healing power, it wasn’t him.  It couldn’t be.  She was a Water Tribe peasant… among other things.  He couldn’t desire her.  But no matter how many times he buried it, the feeling reemerged stronger, dug in deeper.  The last thing he’d needed was her glistening caramel figure thoroughly detailed beneath thin, wet–

The image still churned behind his eyes, sent the blood rushing to all the wrong places.  Or all the right places, depending on who you asked.  His mouth tasted bitter.

Jaw clenching, Ozai closed his eyes and drew a breath, let it out with control.  When he had composed himself, he stuffed the crumpled paper into his pocket and crossed the clearing, snatching the canteen from the satchel next to Lu Da and taking a long, cool swig.  Or lukewarm swig it turned out.  The water wasn’t nearly cool enough and left the ache smoldering.  Ozai dropped it back into the satchel with a grimace.  What he would give right now for a tall, stiff drink.  He considered perhaps immersing himself into the icy river, let the waters cool the virulent heat coursing through him, when he turned and nearly collided with her.

She was returning to their campsite with an easy walk, posture relaxed, and hardly seemed to notice the way he slammed to a stop as she strolled by, softly flipping her dry hair behind her shoulders.  The girl was clothed again, thank the spirits, but he couldn’t separate the accidental glimpse from the way she moved now, the sway of her hips, the curves of her body half-veiled now beneath the tunic, the swell of her breasts.

Inadvertently, her cool smile snagged on Ozai as she passed.  He tensed, felt his mouth go dry, scowling as he tore his eyes from hers.  The smile curdled as she slowed to a stop, eyeing him curiously in his periphery for a beat too long.

Ozai had goaded the girl for her awkward attraction to him, even flirting with her to incite a reaction.  Just a fun little game, watching her blush and squirm.  Suddenly, it didn’t feel quite so fun anymore.  What a punishing stroke of irony.

“What do you say we get some grub and some shut eye?” he heard Lu Da say and turned to see the man pull out a pair of raw carrots and a cucumber from the satchel, mouth twisting.  He grumbled.  “I feel like a damn rabbit eating all this raw, crunchy shit.  I’m starving.”

“Me too,” the girl said, eyeing the vegetables reluctantly.

“If we set out before sunrise, we should hit the market in plenty of time before it closes at dusk.”

There was still a measure of daylight left, but the captain was right.  They needed sleep if they hoped to keep a steady pace tomorrow, considering what little sleep they were running on from the night before.  Hopefully by this time next evening, they would have some real food.  And a new set of sleeping bags.

Ozai quietly avoided the girl as the three of them ate.  He had just rested down for the night along the uneven ground when he heard a soft sigh nearby.  He glanced over to see Katara reclining just a few feet away.  By sheer accident their eyes met as she lied back, stretching out graceful and sleek, and suddenly those few feet felt like an inch.  A dull pang gripped his stomach.  Ozai turned onto his side with a glower and kept his back to her.

* * *

The caravan faded into the distance.  Azek and the two girls watched it slink through the shallow valley from where they sat on a hill.  A high hill, not quite a mountain as this part of Fire Nation was in rather short supply.  High enough to keep out of sight at least.

They had first spotted a caravan of carts and ostrich horses the day before while cutting across the remote stretch of hills.  It had struck them as odd, a caravan out in the middle of nowhere, and Nori had suggested they keep an eye on the area with which they had all agreed.  By that evening, a second caravan had lumbered by, and now this morning, a third.  There was definitely something going on down there.  Whether it had anything to do with cagrium or the rebel forces remained to be seen.

“Well, we going to check it out or not?”  Emiko flitted to her feet, hands on her slender hips.  “The day’s not getting any younger and I wanna scope it out before another convoy shows up.”

“Don’t be hasty.  We don’t know what, or who, might still be down there.”  Azek eyed the dark blotch on the landscape that was clearly some kind of hole.  “What if some of them stayed behind?”

“I didn’t say storm in and make a scene, did I?  We can be sneaky.”

“Yeah, because there’s so much down there for us to sneak behind,” Azek snarked.

The valley below was a sea of rolling grass and only sparsely dotted with trees, the early morning sun climbing cheerfully up the sky.  If someone was watching, they’d see them coming for ages.

“Well, it’s either take our chances while we can or sit here aimlessly waiting for the next parade to roll by.  I doubt that’s what Fire Lord Zuko had in mind when he sent us on this mission.”  A gust of warm air sent her spunky, jaw-length fringe into a flurry, black ribbons teasing milk-white skin.  “Besides, my bet’s on us if we have to take them.  We have fire, earth–”  Emiko gestured to herself and Nori, then turned to Azek, “and your… uh, super-fast speed?”

Her voice was light, but the barb found its mark and Azek’s hand moved defensively to the hilt of his sheathed weapon.  “Yeah, I just carry this jian sword around for funsies.”

Emiko laughed, nudging him hard with her elbow.  “Lighten up, it was just a joke.  Sheesh, let me know if you need a tampon.”

“Come on, you two,” Nori cut in.  “We’re wasting our time.  Are we going down there or what?”

It was an uneventful trek without incident and they soon found themselves looming over a very large, very deep sinkhole.

“We should come back with some rope,” said Azek, eyeing the pit’s crumbling edges. 

“Sure, you do that,” said Emiko.  “Meanwhile, I’ll just go down and check it out.”

“We don’t know if it’s–”  _Safe_ , he was going to say, but Emiko was already jumping into the hole.

Azek let out a hard breath as he watched her, seemingly weightless, flit down into the dark, passing between rocky handholds, sometimes leaping.  Alighting on narrow ledges with virtually no sound of impact.  Azek held his breath, watching her, half expecting the stony ledges to give way and suck her into the darkness.  But they didn’t.  In a matter of seconds, she was halfway down in the pit, pausing to look over her shoulder and call up at him with a wide grin.

“Well?”

Frowning, Azek paced the edge, looking for a place to go over.  Emiko had made it look so easy.  He knew it wasn’t.  In the brief time he’d come to know her since their recruitment into the army, he’d found Emiko had a way of making everything look easy, effortless.  Azek may have been fast, but she was lithe, more bird, or perhaps spider, than human.

Nori brushed past him and lowered herself over the edge with ease.  Curvier and thicker than Emiko, with a bust that could hold several pencils in its cleavage, she was shorter and less spry than her friend but every bit as fearless.  She paused at the edge to tie her long brown locks up in a ponytail, shooting him an encouraging smile before disappearing below the rim.  Azek stepped forward and watched her descend.  Not wanting to be left behind, he let out a deep sigh and started down after them.

It was a long way down.  He reached what he thought was the bottom to find Nori and Emiko inspecting the cavity.  The ground stretched out for perhaps only twenty feet before ending abruptly in another dizzying drop.  How far down did this thing go?

Murky water had collected in puddles wide and deep, obstructing a clear path to the other side.  Without any hesitation, Emiko started across in little skips, like a child crossing a stream on stepping stones.  She pirouetted at the edge of the steep drop-off, turning back to him with a self-satisfied grin.

“You’re crazy,” he grumbled, stepping around the pockets of water after Nori.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”  Azek was looking down, watching his step, but he could almost feel her grin widen.

“Crazy is only a bad thing if you don’t use it productively,” Emiko winked, going over the edge with ease, Nori following after.  Groaning, Azek lowered himself down slowly.

“I see,” he said as he found the next foothold.  “You’re the good kind of crazy, are you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said.  “The very good kind.  I even _taste_ good, or so I’m told.”

Azek was too focused on not falling to his death, so he missed the mischief in her tone and the smirk she shared with Nori.

“Taste?” he scoffed good-humoredly.  “You tend to keep company with cannibals?”

Emiko sputtered with delighted disbelief, and only then, too late, did Azek register her meaning.  Oh spirits.  _Taste_.  He snapped his head down to look at her, nearly losing his balance in the process.  She was perched now on a narrow outcropping against Nori, the two girls laughing harder at the shock on his face. 

“Cannibals!” she gasped.  “Oh, spirits, that’s good.  I should start calling you that, Nori.  My sweet _cannibal_.”  The two of them leaned in on each other, snorts of laughter against each other’s necks, before Emiko managed to compose herself enough to speak.  “Wanna know a secret?”  She leaned up slightly toward him, fingers laced with Nori’s, and whispered the rest, wide-eyed and salacious.  “I’m a cannibal, too.”

Azek flushed with mortification.  “Keep your private matters to yourselves.”

“You’re blushing like a maiden,” Nori chuckled.  “Honestly, you seem as innocent as one.  It’s kinda sweet actually.”

“Who’d have thought it?  A smolderingly good-looking catch like you, Azek?”  Emiko wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.  “I’d have thought you had girls flinging themselves at you.”

“I’m not innocent,” he grumbled, defensive.

“No?  Tell us, then.  _Are_ you a maiden?”

A _maiden_?  He kept on descending.  Did she mean a virgin?  Was she really asking him that?

“Come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Emiko prodded.  “Plenty of fine gentlemen wait until marriage.”

Azek scoffed.  “And you’ve been acquainted with plenty of fine gentlemen, have you?”

“Well, not really, no,” Emiko admitted.  And then, as though a new thought had occurred to her, she asked with a note of zestful curiosity.  “Have _you_?”

The innuendo struck him and made him flash hot.  Nori suppressed a laugh and Azek shot them a warning look as he climbed lower, reaching the floor of the sinkhole several long moments after the girls.  He ignored the question and, to his surprise, they let it go with just a few spicy remarks uttered under their breaths.  Azek did his best to ignore those too.

Only a splinter of white light pierced the darkness now from far above.  Emiko opened her palm, filled it with soft orange flame as they looked around. 

Glints of green winked in the darkness and Azek’s eyes widened.  The entire wall of rock, maybe the entire chamber here, was veined with raw cagrium ore.

“Well.”  Azek took a deep breath.  “Guess we’ve found the source.”

Emiko ran her hand along an emerald stripe.  “One of them anyway.  Matsu implied there were multiple deposits.”

“We should cut a chunk out, take it back to the Fire Lord,” Nori suggested.

Azek nodded, withdrawing the pickaxe from his backpack, and got to work, hacking out wedges of the smooth green mineral, placing them in a small compartment.  When he was through, the three of them ambled around the dark cave in a rare beat of silence, their feet scraping over loose pebbles.

“How far do you think this tunnel goes?” Emiko asked, the three of them staring into the deep, hollow dark.

Without prompting, she led the way, skulking deeper into the bowels of the cavern.  They had only walked perhaps a few yards before Azek stopped short, his lip curling.  He was fairly certain he felt the hairs in his nose wither.

“Gods, what’s that smell?”  Emiko beat him to it.

It was easily the most repulsive stench Azek had ever met in his life.  A reek he could only compare to a burst belly covered in hippo-cow shit and burning human hair, seven days rotten.

“Emiko, can you turn that up?” he asked and the spider girl’s flame brightened three-fold.  Gasps echoed sharp through the chamber.  Beside him, Nori swallowed back a gag, Azek’s stomach heaving.

“Oh my gods…”

Bodies upon bodies in various states of decay lied tangled in heaps against the farthest wall.  Some horribly mutilated, others deformed beyond recognition, twisted into a ghastly perversion of what had once been a human form.

“What the f–”  Nori choked on the words.

“It’s a grave.”  Azek could only take little gasps of breath without gagging.  “The experiments…  I think they must be tossing all the botched ones down here.”

“That’s a lot of experiments gone wrong.”

“Who knows how many have gone right,” he said.

Silence filled the hollow.

“What are the rebels doing to these benders for so many of them to end up like this?” Nori asked at length.  “I can’t believe anyone would volunteer for such torture.”

“A sadomasochist’s paradise.  Whatever tickles your pickle I guess,” Emiko snarked.

Shaking his head, Azek muttered, “It’s hard to say what exactly Taint does to cause their powers to mutate.  It must be horrific.  I find it hard to believe anyone would sign up for this willingly.”

Nori glanced at him.  “You think Matsu was lying about that?”

A shrug.  “Just saying.  It’s hard to believe.”

“We should get a sample,” Emiko said decisively.  “Take it back for examination.”

Her partner recoiled, wrinkling her nose.  “If you want to touch those things, go right ahead.”

“It might prove useful,” Azek agreed.  “Could be some traces of the drug left, give us a clue into what they’re doing.”

“And since you’re the one with the knife, that means you get to do the honors,” Emiko smirked.

Azek grimaced but didn’t argue, drawing the smaller dagger from his belt reluctantly.  He scuffled over to the mound of disfigured bodies, Emiko at his heels to light the way, and stooped down before it.  He stifled a gag, turning to breathe once over his shoulder before finally sinking the knife in.

Flesh squelched, the wet sound of metal cleaving through layers of rot filling his mouth with acid.  A twist and a slice in either direction and the hunk of human flesh popped free, slipping through his fingers to land on the cavern floor with a moist thud.  Nori retched behind them.  With a tattered exhale, Azek repeated the process on three other bodies and finally stepped back, covering his mouth with the crook of his arm to gulp a breath.

“Guess we need something to take the souvenirs home in.  We have anything in there?” Emiko asked, gesturing to his backpack.

Azek shrugged it off and the girl rummaged through it, pulling out a komodo rhino skin pouch filled with first-aid supplies.  Emptying the contents into the backpack, she held it up, arched a brow.

“That’ll work,” he nodded.  Azek plopped the lumps of flesh into the pouch one by one and she cinched it up, dropped it into the bag with a curled lip.

“We better get out of here before anyone comes back,” said Nori, glancing back down the dark tunnel.

Emiko slipped on the backpack as Azek surveyed his hands, turning them this way and that, half-expecting them to start sprouting legs and teeth.  He grimaced.

“Just so long as we beeline for the nearest waterway,” he said, following them back through the passage.

The spider girl grinned over a sinewy shoulder as they walked.  “If your hands don’t fall off before then.”

* * *

“So, I’ve noticed you eyeing Soraya.  Wanna give her a go?”

Katara crunched away on the last bite of her carrot lunch, blinking as she met Lu Da’s gaze with the soft arch of a brow.

“What, like, shoot it?” she asked, grimacing as she swallowed it down.  “I don’t know, it looks complicated.”

“She’s a proper lady, true, but the rewards more than match the effort,” he smirked.  “Come on.  I’ll show you.”

With a faint smile and a shrug, she slid the stone tablet from her lap and stood up.  “Well, okay.”

Lu Da handed her the weapon and Katara took it gingerly, as though it were a snake that might lash out and bite her.  He laughed.  “Just relax, you’re gonna do great.  Now first you gotta nock the arrow.”  Standing at her side, he showed her where the slot in the nock lined up with the string and helped her pull it back until the latch cocked.

“All right, now bring it up to rest at your shoulder, like this.”  He guided it into position and showed her where to place her fingers and thumbs along the forearm of the stock.  “Nice and easy.  Firm grip.  Now the trick is to aim with your eyes.  Trying shooting for that tree burl over there,” he nodded, hands on her shoulders to steer her.  “Take a deep breath.  And place just your fingertip on the trigger.”

She exhaled long and deep, her eyes on the target.

“Pull back, gently but firmly…”

The moment coiled tight with silence, the girl’s chest hitching, and then suddenly there was a sharp snap as the string released.  The arrow hissed through the air and pierced straight into the crown of the fat tree burl with a dull thwack.

Katara lit up in a bright, bubbly laugh and Lu Da blinked, his surprise melting into amused approval.

“Not too shabby for a first timer.  Maybe you should get yourself one of these,” he said, smirking, as she handed back the crossbow.

She smiled.  “I think I’ll stick to water, but thanks.”

The girl returned to the tablet with a sigh and Lu Da rested Soraya down against the tree, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead.  Even the forest shade was hot.  Crossing the clearing, he stopped before the large satchel, stooping down to rummage through it until he found the canteen.

A crawling sensation was spreading over the back of his neck, like the prickling slink of a spider.  That distinct feeling of eyes on him.  He looked behind to find Ozai fixing him with a sour expression.  Lu Da tensed, his eyes darting away briefly.

“What?”

“She’s not a _pet_ ,” Ozai rumbled.  “She’s a hostage.”

Lu Da stood, canteen in hand, and tipped his head with a frown, blinking hard.  “I’m aware of that,” he said, a sharp angle of his brow.

“Well, that’s a relief.”  Ozai scowled, amber eyes narrowing.  “Because I was starting to think you may have forgotten.”

Uncorking the bottle, Lu Da exhaled a dry laugh, shaking his head.  “You know…”  A few gulps of water and he plugged the lid, dropped the canteen back in the satchel.  “I wasn’t gonna say anything.  But that sure is _funny_ coming from you right now.  You show up in Guo Yang and what do I see?  Your _hostage_ free as a bird at your side, not a rope in sight.”  He fixed Ozai with a strong look and nodded at Katara.  “That look like a hostage to you?”

The hostage was kneeling comfortably over the stone tablet beneath a willow tree, expression soft, twisting her long, sultry, brown waves over one shoulder as she studied it.

Ozai’s scowl deepened and Lu Da met it with steady aplomb.  He was not ignorant of the unique rapport he had with Ozai.  Anyone else would have received a swift ass kicking right now for speaking to him like that.  But somehow, over the years, the two of them had reached an unspoken accord of mutual respect, even a modicum of trust – a luxury neither of them had any right to – and something that closely resembled friendship.

“Maybe I just haven’t been acquainted with enough hostages,” Lu Da said, crossing him arms, “but I’d think most would run _toward_ the guards who might save her, not in the opposite direction.”

To his credit, Ozai didn’t attempt to argue it.  But his face darkened in a brooding frown, the forest humming softly around them.  Lu Da released a sigh and slumped down on the fallen tree beside him.  The seasons had been harsh, stripping its bark and outer layers away over time, lending it the appearance of driftwood, the veins twisting in patterns that reminded him of seaside waves.  Lu Da’s arms draped over his legs as he studied the creases in his tattooed knuckles, the glint of metal where his rings caught the light.

“Ozai,” he began finally, his eyes fixed on his hands, “you and I formed a kinship over our hearts of stone.  I get it.  I really do.  But I’ll be the first to admit that mine isn’t completely stone cold, and I happen to know that yours isn’t either, much as you’d have me believe otherwise.”  His eyes flicked aside to Ozai, caught the hard set of his sculpted jaw, and back down again.  “Now, I don’t know what must have transpired along the way for you to allow your hostage – if that’s what you want to call her – to go about unfettered, and for that girl to seem so oddly at ease around you.  And you don’t have to tell me,” he relented, opening his hands in concession.  Lu Da turned fully to him then, speaking sharp and clear.  “But do not insult my intelligence by insisting that nothing’s changed when clearly something has.”

Ozai turned his head away a degree further, unyielding scowl fixed firmly on the ground.  Lu Da breathed in and straightened, placing his hands on his knees.

“I find it amusing, that’s all,” he said as he stood, crossing his burly, inked arms, “accusing me of much the same.  The _irony_.”

Ozai glowered, a tight frown.  He was silent and Lu Da was beginning to accept that might be all the response he was going to get when the larger man released a tight, grousing breath.

“We were attacked,” he grated out at last, gaze on the ground.  “Along the Bone Road.” 

Lu Da’s eyes went wide in a blink.  “What?”  He didn’t utter the word so much as exhale it, his stomach dropping like a stone in a lake.  “And you… survived?”

Ozai shook his head, didn’t look up.  “No.”  Barely a whisper.  “I would have died.  The waterben–”  His words cut off, eyes squeezing shut with something close to a sigh.  He began again.  “Katara saved my life.”

He registered the genuine use of her name as his mouth fell open like a broken drawbridge.  Lu Da choked out a shocked laugh, searching for the words, but all he could drag together in the end was, “…Why?”  Ozai didn’t respond.  “I would’ve left you to rot if I’d been her.  No offense.”

“I don’t know why,” came the low rasp.  Lu Da could only shake his head, sliding a look at the most unhostage-like hostage in history.  He wasn’t so sure Ozai was telling him everything, and even less sure that the man was fully oblivious to her reasoning.

“Well, I hope you at least said thank you.”

Ozai turned away a fraction, his stupidly flawless lips twisting, and Lu Da rolled his eyes closed with a groan.

“Of course you didn’t.”  A shake of his head.  So that was what Katara had meant.  _Like you owed it to me._

“I _did_ ,” he corrected with a growl, meeting his eyes.  _Eventually_ , the tone implied.  After she gave him a good piece of her mind, Lu Da wagered.

“Well, that’s an improvement, I guess.  Baby steps,” he smirked as Ozai shot him a scathing look.  The girl seemed to possess a fiery spirit and a bold tongue, which she didn’t seem shy about using, even with such a strong, formidable man as her captor.  Semi captor…  Former captor?  Whatever.  Lu Da had known right away he liked her.

Well…  Maybe not _right_ away.  A grimace.  Rest in peace, _Lady Luck_ , his first and favorite ship.  Not such a lucky lass after all.

Shifting his weight, Lu Da crossed his arms as he changed the subject.  “So, these assholes that attacked you.  They didn’t happen to be sporting a certain distinguishing mark, did they?  A red handprint with a grey skull?”

Ozai straightened, his brow drawn darkly.  “How would you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” he grumbled.  “Same pricks that I had a run in with on my way to the White Spire.  The Blood Brotherhood, they call themselves.  Apparently this side of the Earth Kingdom’s overrun with these roaches and they’re planning to extend their reach.”

“And just how did you come to know all this?  They tell you over a nice cup of tea?”

“Close.  Turns out, their head honcho is an old friend of mine.  Bao Zirrik.”

Ozai blinked.  “Bao the Bloody?”

“So you have heard of him.”

“You call him a friend?” he scowled, sitting forward.  “The man let his thugs beat your face to a pulp.”

“Friend used very loosely these days.  Found out after the fact the man’s running the show, and he’s the only reason I even made it out of there.  You can write him a thank you note later.  Though I did end up having to tell him what we’re doing.”

“What?!”  Ozai shot to his feet with a snarl, towering over him and Lu Da had to fight not to draw back.  “You didn’t think to _lie_?”

“I tried, the man’s fucking clairvoyant.  He called my bluff.  Even then, he only let me leave if I promised to come back and join him after I’m done helping you.  Told me to convince you to back his gig too, for a stake in the profits, once you come to power again.”

Ozai shook his head, a muscle twitching in his jaw.  “And you agreed to all this.”

“I agreed to come back,” he said with a roguish smirk.  “Never promised to behave myself when I did.”

“Alright, I think I’m finally getting close.”  Katara appeared at Ozai’s side, holding out the tablet to return it.  “I don’t think I can do much more without writing things down.”

For just a fleeting moment, an odd thing seemed to happen.  Ozai appeared… uncomfortable.  The man was a monument to cold, distant control, but Lu Da could almost feel Ozai’s hackles rise, as though caught off-guard by her sudden closeness.  He took the tablet and then turned firmly away from her, as though she were a dangerous animal.  The moment spanned only a blink and the man’s mask of control fell back into place, and Lu Da could almost believe he had imagined it.

Almost.

He watched with pursed lips as the man cinched the tablet up in the satchel and shouldered the bag.  It was clear Ozai wasn’t going to respond so Lu Da turned to Katara who was frowning at Ozai’s back. 

“Hopefully we can remedy that shortly.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The market was a modest cluster of booths and stalls in the heart of an unremarkable town, listless and silently bloating in the hot sun.  Locals and travelers roamed the square, fanning away the heat, perusing goods and haggling over prices.  Despite its size, the place was home to a rather surprising assortment of wares.

There was a booth full of seasonal fresh fruits and vegetables, a butcher with his bloody lumps of meat on display and naked chickens hanging up.  Specialty jams, honeys, teas, and smoked fish.  Beyond the edible goods, several tarped stalls boasted shelves and hangers of Earth Kingdom clothing, hats, shoes, as well as rugs, tableware, traveling gear, and sleeping bags.

Ozai gave silent thanks for that last one as he stood cloaked at the edge of the square, in the shadows of the village inn, watching Lu Da make his way from booth to booth through the sluggish crowd.

At his side, Katara groaned, shifting on her feet.  “It’s the dead of summer,” she said, peering at him from inside her hood.  “Aren’t you afraid our cloaks might draw _more_ attention to us standing here?”

“More attention than our faces on full display?” he asked tartly.

She let out a hard breath, plucking at her cloak to let air in.  Silence resumed and Ozai scanned the town square, like a gazelle rabbit scanning a meadow for movement.  The girl was right, of course, about the conspicuous appearance of their cloaks.  Only slightly less conspicuous than not wearing them at all.  He silently willed Lu Da to hurry.

Two dirty children in ragged clothes were wandering through the market.  A young boy and his little sister, no older than six and four, if Ozai had to guess.  Holding out a cup with pleading eyes to passersby, most of whom were going out of their way to ignore them.  Ozai watched the hope leach out of their faces with every snubbed nose.

“Those poor children,” Katara rasped beside him.  “Where are their parents?”

“Probably hiding in an alley around the corner.  For all you know the kids are a pawn, tricking an empathetic fool into giving away his money.”

The girl let out an indignant breath.  “How can you be so cynical and heartless?  You have no reason to believe they’re anything but starving, homeless kids.”

“Better cynical than naïve,” he grumbled.  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“The world is full of more good people than it is bad,” she said at last.  “I truly believe that.  If that makes me naïve, so be it.”

Ozai shook his head faintly, mouth twisting.  “You simply haven’t lived long enough yet.”

Lu Da returned finally with both satchels stocked with food and goods.

“Sleeping bags, check.  Enough real food to hopefully last a solid week, if we’re careful.  I think we’re good to go.”

“Wait,” Katara said, and Lu Da turned.  “Can you give me my share of dinner now?”

His brows squished together, sliding a curious glance at Ozai and back to her.  “Why?”

“Just…”  She leveled a pointed look.  “Can you?”

Shrugging, he reached a tattooed arm into the smaller satchel and drew out a small loaf of bread, handed it to her.  She smiled and spared Ozai a quick glance.

“What are doing?” he demanded, his arms tightening.

“Be right back.”  She sprung into a swift step before he could stop her.

“Katara,” Ozai hissed at her back, jaw clenching as she headed straight into the heart of the market.  She stopped before the two children, stooping down.

The little girl shuffled back behind her brother, eyeing Katara around his shoulder with large, sad eyes.  Ozai watched, hands curled tight, as the waterbender spoke softly and held out the loaf of bread, the pair inspecting it eagerly but hesitantly.  At last, the boy took it with a small smile and a bow before turning back to his sister, exchanging wide-eyed grins and galloping off onto a quiet side street.

Ozai could only glare as she returned, smiling, seemingly unfazed by his dark anger.  Gritting his teeth, he took her calmly by the upper arm but his sudden, hard grip betrayed any calmness he might have shown.  Katara gasped, her smile breaking as she met his gaze, rewarding him with a fleeting quiver of fear.

“What are you doing?” he snarled.

Her blue eyes flitted over his.  “Feeding those poor, begging kids.”

“ _No_.  You’re causing a scene.  The last thing we need is to draw unnecessary attention.”

“Like you’re doing right now?” she challenged and he gripped her harder.  “Hardly anyone even seemed to notice or care about those kids.”

“Which is why your little chivalrous act would draw attention.”

“Ozai’s right, buttercup,” Lu Da cut in.  “It was a noble thing to do.  But best we get moving.”

With one quiet shove of her arm, Ozai drove her forward a step before letting go.  They made their way as discreetly as possible toward the other side of town, keeping mostly to the perimeter.

“I hope it was worth it,” he rumbled on the way.  “Sacrificing your evening meal to those filthy urchins.”

“They needed it more than I did,” she replied quietly.  Ozai slid her a grumbling look.  He sighed deeply, shaking his head, but knew it was futile to argue with her any further.

As they neared the eastern border of town, Ozai spotted a wooden noticeboard, weathered and splintering, full of yellowed paper and rusty nails.  Local announcements, advertisements, opportunities for those seeking work, one such flyer informing them that “Help” was indeed “Wonted.”  At the far-right side of the board was a poster for some sort of curiosity shop.  _Tonro’s Curios: Rarities, Oddities, & the Finest Antiquities._

The noticeboard slipped from view as Ozai passed but at the last second something caught his eye.  He slammed to a stop, Katara nearly running into him as he turned back, glancing over the poster again.

Ozai ripped the sheet of paper from the board to get a closer look, trying to process what he was seeing, eyes widening beneath furrowed brows.  Below the shop’s description, and vague directions to the town of Tiankong, was the shop’s insignia.  A tree, mirrored on itself as in a reflection, a starry sky overhead with a crescent moon in its branches.  And beneath, its twin, with a vivid blue palate and blazing sun.

“What is it?” Lu Da asked, coming to his side.

At first, Ozai could only stare in bewildered disbelief.  “This image…” he said at last, shaking his head.  “I saw it in a dream.”

_Moon above, sun below._

His dream.  The riddle.  And now this.  It hardly seemed possible.

The man shifted on his feet, studying him long and hard.  “Uhh…  Listen, if this heat is getting to you…  It’s almost safe now, maybe you should take that heavy cloak off.”

“I’m serious,” Ozai retorted, giving him a stern look.  “I saw it.”

Lu Da’s mouth worked, searching for words, releasing a baffled breath.  “How?” he asked.  “What would that even mean?”

“I have no idea,” said Ozai, straightening as he folded the paper up, slipped it into his pocket.  “But I think we should head for Tiankong.”


	22. Captivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t begin to tell you guys what an accomplishment it is for me that I’ve finally finished this chapter.  Life’s been throwing so much shade and it’s forced me to do some major soul searching and self care in order to move through and forward.  My creativity took a hit and I had to put it aside for a bit, but things seem to be on the upswing, at least I think, so I’m hoping the updates will be more regular after this.  Fingers crossed.  Love and a lifetime supply of fire flakes to you all who’ve made it this far 🤗❤️

The silence was deadening.  Zuko stared at the wall of silk, an empty feeling gnawing a pit inside his stomach as the palanquin rocked gently.  Aang sat beside him, still as a stone, hands folded in his lap.  No words between them, no eye contact.  The silence spoke enough for them both.

Zuko glanced behind at the second palanquin.  He imagined the air inside was just as thick.  Sokka, Hakoda, and Toph had insisted on accompanying them to the hearing with the Concord Assembly, and Zuko hadn’t had the heart to say no.  For one thing, two were her family by blood – no matter how difficult it might be for them, they had every right to be present.  But in truth, all of them had become family.  All of them cared deeply about Katara, and right now it felt as though she’d stabbed their hearts through with a knife, twisting, turning.

Rounding a bend, up a small hill, and finally the building came into view.  They stopped outside the green double doors and the concierge approached, Maho if his memory served, bowing with a warm greeting.  Zuko managed some semblance of a smile back as she led them up the stairs and inside the polished halls. 

His stomach churned sluggishly.  Zuko kept telling himself that this was all just an unfortunate coincidence and Katara had only been kidnapped.  That she would never do something this stupid.

But then, people did stupid things all the time.  Even more so when it came to love, rational minds strangled by passion.  Katara was nothing if not passionate.  And Ozai could manipulate almost anyone.  If she had foolishly made contact with him…

A door swung open and they were escorted into the auditorium, where all six assembly members were sitting grim-faced along the raised tribune, waiting.  At their entrance, they stood in unison and bowed deeply.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” the Grand Councilor said, nodding solemn greeting to the others.  He took his seat again, the others following, and sat back in his chair, folding his hands on the table.  There was a strained beat of silence, the whole room holding its breath, before the man cleared his throat.  “I am aware you’ve called this meeting to bring forth evidence you believe may prove Master Katara’s involvement in the recent crimes.”

Zuko set his jaw.  “That’s correct.”

The Grand Councilor nodded, sighed.  “As it turns out, we have collected new evidence of our own, which we can discuss after the closing of your statements, if it please your majesty.”

A lump lodged itself in his throat.  He had half hoped the Assembly would assuage his fears, or at the very least not validate them.  But he was here now, and deep down he had known how it would all unfold.  Zuko stood taller and swallowed.

“Yes.  Thank you.  I’ve been informed by an ambassador from the Earth Kingdom that Ozai and Katara had a run-in recently with a band of criminals on the Bone Road.  Witnesses say that Ozai not only removed her restraints, but that they fought the assailants off together, that she never turned attack on him even when given the chance.  And his body was not among the deceased, substantiating that claim.  It is believed she fled with him.”

The man’s brows creased deeply.  “Willingly, you mean?”

Zuko opened his mouth, hesitating.  “I’d sincerely like to believe otherwise.  But… it appears that way, yes.”

Sokka released a disheartened breath, gave a subtle shake of his head.  The Grand Councilor steepled his fingers, pressing them to his pursed lips, eyes wandering over the others in the room and back to him.  “While odd and indeed disturbing if true, I must ask how this relates to the crimes in question?”

“It made me realize something.  The rumors that had been attacking me left and right…”  Zuko shifted on his feet, fighting the urge to wipe his clammy hands on his robes.  “They stopped immediately following Katara’s disappearance.  She had been acting strangely in the days just before, though I didn’t pick it up it at the time.  Our relationship was hardly a secret… so I will speak openly and admit that she was not happy I was marrying Mai.  Katara became melancholy, sometimes bitter and unpleasant.  After the rumors started, her demeanor changed.  She was suddenly warmer, always hovering close.  Katara approached me several times to offer solace and comfort in my distress.”  Hakoda shifted uncomfortably on his feet and Zuko’s neck and ears felt impossibly hot.  He tried to keep from shrinking into himself as he continued.  “There was a desperation to it, sometimes suffocating.  As though she had thought it out.  Using the rumors to flourish herself as a safe space and entice me back.”

The old man raised his bushy grey brows.  “You believe that Katara planted these rumors?”

Zuko swallowed.  “Yes.  But she couldn’t have done it alone.  These were things that she couldn’t possibly have known.  That _very_ few people could have known.  And my father is one of them.”

The Grand Councilor nodded slowly, sighed deep.  “This claim is circumstantial but it does have weight.  Lacking further evidence, it might even be enough to warrant arrest.  We have, however, uncovered what we deem to be concrete proof of the allegations against her.  It appears someone had been using the underground tunnels to travel back and forth to the prison.”  Zuko’s eyes widened, his stomach shrinking.  “A footprint was found in the mud around the entrance that appears a perfect match to Katara’s.  Correct me if I’m wrong, Lord Zuko, but I believe only the Fire Lord and a select few others are privy to the tunnel system?”

“Yes,” Zuko croaked out.  Ozai was well acquainted with the tunnels, of course.  His throat felt thick as the evidence just stacked up and up.  The prison break in, countless highly trained military guards dispatched like rag dolls.  Katara slipping out night after night.  The rumors.  Ozai’s escape.  The asylum, Azula breaking out…

Zuko watched the Grand Councilor peer gravely down the line of his colleagues.  With grim faces, each one nodded in turn and finally the older man turned back to Zuko, regret and disdain warring in his stately gaze.

“It is the opinion of the Assembly that the allegations and evidence presented here, concerning Master Katara’s disappearance and the offenses preceding it, _are_ sufficient to corroborate her direct involvement.”  A deep sigh.  “Therefore, the Assembly finds probable cause to convict Master Katara of these charges, if you so choose, Fire Lord.”

The truth sank in his heart like a pebble to the bottom of a pond, the ripples reaching out and out and out.  Heaviness filled the room.  He had known it in his bones, but it was something else entirely to hear the words spoken aloud.  His worst fears affirmed.  Zuko bowed his head, exhaling the last of his hope, eyes squeezed shut.  His voice was gravel.

“Issue a warrant for Katara’s arrest.”

A soft gasp.  “Zuko, no–”  Hakoda silenced Sokka with a firm hand on his shoulder, grimacing.

“With a reward to match my father’s.  See that every town in the Earth Kingdom flies these posters.”  He looked up, brows drawn deep in a frown, and squared his shoulders.  “Let’s bring them home.”

* * *

“So, let me see if I follow.” 

Lu Da spoke around a mouthful of fresh chicken dumpling procured at the market, holding the stolen curio shop advertisement in one hand.  His effects were folded on a flat rock nearby and Katara couldn’t help eyeing the impressive display of artwork inked across his brawny torso, down the length of his arms.

“Not only did you see this _exact_ image in a dream, now you’re saying you’ve been hearing this phrase over and over?”  He pointed to a line of text on the translation in Ozai’s hand.  “The one that’s written here?”

Katara leaned over to get a closer look.  _Moon above, sun below._

“Yes.  Do you need me to say it again?”  Ozai snarked, sitting equally shirtless across from Lu Da and eating a pork bun.  The three of them had thrown off their cloaks as soon as the village had shrunk from view, and the men had discarded their tunics, Ozai’s sweat-mottled garment hanging on a branch, swaying lightly in a breeze.  Katara wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, half-wishing she could sit around only partially clothed.  The heat had returned with a vengeance.

She sat cross-legged, watching the two men scarfing down their dinner, her mouth watering, trying her best to focus on this strange turn of events.  Naturally, her stomach waited until the precise moment when no one was speaking to grumble loudly and she hugged her arms around her middle.

“You didn’t think to mention you’re having weird ass prophetic dreams before now?” Lu Da probed, raising a brow.

“They’re not prophetic–”

“Whatever you wanna call it,” he cut in, wolfing down a bite.  “This exact image and this exact phrase showing up in your dreams?  Yeah that’s totally normal.  Not unnerving at all.”  Ozai’s frown deepened but he said nothing.  Lu Da sighed, shook his head.  “Shit’s getting weird.”

“Do you think it could have something to do with you slipping into the spirit world?” Katara chimed in, and both men turned to her.  The captain’s mouth fell open and Katara saw the displeasure in the squaring of Ozai’s jaw.

“ _What_?”  The captain turned an exasperated look on Ozai who avoided his gaze as he ate in silence.  “How is that even–?  Why am I just _now_ hearing about this?  Were you even going to tell me?”

“If circumstances warranted,” Ozai grumbled.

Lu Da laughed, sharp and dry.  “So, all this sorcery with the scroll and your dreams and some random curiosity shop and you didn’t think the circumstances warranted?”  He shook his head again and breathed out a curse, running a hand through the stripe of black hair along his skull.   Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he slid a glance Katara’s direction and crossed his arms.  “You’ve become unusually chatty of late, I hear.  Makes me wonder what else you’ve told her that I don’t know.”

Ozai narrowed his eyes, about to say something when Katara’s stomach growled again.  She squirmed, trying to silence it, and Ozai’s flinty gold eyes cut sideward.  With a heavy sigh, he shoved his last pork bun in front of her.  “Here.”

She blinked.  “…But I thought–”

“That you were a fool for giving away your evening ration to those flea-ridden strays?  Yes.  But I can’t listen to your stomach making those sounds all night.”

Katara scrunched up her face but took the offering anyway, grateful.

“Look at you sacrificing yourself for others,” Lu Da remarked, a smirk turning up one tattooed cheek.  “When did you get a heart?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  Ozai’s tone was dismissive, almost bored.

But the gesture did strike her as oddly chivalrous coming from him.  Katara took a small bite, relishing the savory deliciousness, and stole a glimpse at Ozai just as his eyes found hers in an unintentional glance.  He bristled when he found her looking at him, brows lowering, and Katara quickly turned her eyes back down, heat creeping over her face.

The sky was purpling, smeared with clots of grey clouds as they finished eating.  Lu Da began laying out the sleeping bags – a commodity for which she sent up a silent prayer of thanks.  Katara sighed contentedly, her eyes snagging on the riddle in Ozai’s hand beside her.  Leaning absently, tilting her head, she read a block of scribbled text again, intrigue welling up in her chest.

 _More enduring than death and older than time,_  
_one mother shall remain even when the stars have burnt out._  
_Her strength unshakable in roots unseen,_  
_where the frosts of ages can never hope to touch._  
_Higher and higher does she reach yet never grows._  
_With arms outstretched, she sees the birth and life and death of all._  
_And in her breast, a path to the sun when earth and air embrace._

“One mother…”  Ozai glanced at her as she held a finger to her chin in thought.  “Mother Earth, maybe?  Strength and roots.”

“Where the frosts of ages can never touch?” he said, a tart crease in the corner of his mouth.

“Mother Earth’s too broad,” Lu Da responded without looking up, removing a loose rock from under his sleeping bag, tossing it away.  “It wouldn’t make sense.  Has to be more specific than that, I’d think.”

Katara nodded, glancing back down at the script, muttering under her breath.  “Higher and higher does she reach yet never grows.  Can’t be a tree, I guess.  Strength unshakeable in roots unseen…”  Her lips pulled to the side.  “A mountain?”

Lu Da paused, looked over his shoulder.  “You know, that’s just mindfuckingly vague enough to be a possibility, considering the cryptic bastards who wrote this.  At least they told us the mountain is a she, huh?  Narrows it down by half.  Just look for the ones with baps big enough to hold a ‘path to the sun.’”  Lu Da rolled his eyes with a sardonic half-smile and turned back.

Katara couldn’t help but snicker and Ozai arched a single, flawless brow.  It was amazing what the man could do with a raised eyebrow.  Convey annoyance.  Curiosity.  Disdain.  What might pass for amusement.

“Oh, before I forget.”  Lu Da said, reaching into the small satchel and stepping before her.  “Your charcoal and paper as requested, my lady,” he said, handing over the items with mock decorum.  The captain’s impish grin was infectious and Katara found herself smiling back.

“Thanks.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Soft snores drifted on the air.  Katara sat up straighter, stretching out her back and sighing deep as she slid the stone tablet from her lap, resting the paper and charcoal down on top of it.  The trees were dark webs against the sky, its canvas slowly deepening to the dusty violet of a bruise.

Lu Da had nodded off early, Katara and Ozai using what daylight had remained to tend to their work.  The sun had long since drained from the horizon, visibility drastically diminished, and the dull ache behind her eyes told her it was time to quit.  Sliding a glance at Ozai, Katara found him staring distantly at the crooked knuckles of tree roots splitting the earth, sitting cross-legged and leaning on his knees.  The riddle discarded on the ground before him.  The man seemed carved of stone, jaw set, muscles hard in the dying glow of twilight.  She watched him for a while, thoughts stirring up slowly in her mind like mud from the bottom of a lake.

Realizing she was staring, Katara looked down and absently picked up a twig, twisting it between her fingers.  Ozai kept so much hidden from the world behind that cruel surface.  She didn’t stop the thoughts from coming, let them stir up from the depths of her mind.  Allowed them take shape.  But this time, she was resolved to let them drift away again, let them sink and settle.

The forest blurred softly around her as she stared at the twig, peeling a thin curl of bark away.  Last time she had pried, Ozai had snapped at her.  And she could hardly blame him, nosy as she’d been.  Ozai was entitled to his privacy as much as anyone else, and Katara had silently vowed to leave him to it.

“Just say whatever it is you’re thinking, girl.”

Her focus was pulled apart, the deep voice slicing through her thoughts like a knife.  Katara blinked, her eyes skating to Ozai.  He must have noticed her staring, but he wasn’t looking at her, still frowning off in the gloom.  A corner of her mouth tipped down.

“I thought you told me to mind my own demons–”

“And that remains.”  He turned his frown on her then.  “But if you hold it in any longer your face will split apart.”

Katara snorted and gave him a foul look.  She glanced back to the partially naked twig in her fingers, the enthralling itch to know and her better judgment at war in her head.  At last, she conceded with a deep breath.  “Alright, fine.  I was actually thinking about your brother.  Iroh.”

His eyes narrowed just enough for her to take notice.  “Why?”

“I know he’s a lot older.  But you still grew up together, sort of, right?  I didn’t get to know him that well, but he always struck me as kind and compassionate.”  She paused.  “Did he know about your father’s abuse?”

Ozai sneered.  “Everyone knew.  But no one was fool enough to say a word.”

“And he… never tried to stop it?”

A look passed over his face, some unspeakable feeling that dragged at his mouth, struck lines between his brows.  Ozai glanced away, sighed long.  Katara looked back down at the stick in her hand, peeling another curl of bark away.  She chewed her lip.  Maybe she should have stayed quiet.

“My brother,” he spoke at length, “was the only one in the palace who ever came close to defying my father.”  At that Katara glanced up, watched Ozai stare off at nothing.  Watched as he carefully turned the words around in his head.  “Iroh found me when Azulon had meant to leave me for dead.  Fetched the healers in time, knowing that doing so would be indirectly defying my father’s wishes.”

She gasped softly as disbelief sucker-punched her in the gut.  “Wait.  Your father honestly tried to kill you?  _Why_?”

There was a long pause.  Ozai turned to her finally with a look that reduced her pulse to a crawl. 

“Why do you care, little waterbender?”  His voice was the murmur of black velvet on bare skin, dark and silky.

All the evening chorus, the frogs, the insects seemed to go quiet.  Katara swallowed, eyes darting down, responding in a weak voice.  “I don’t know.”

Her throat tightened, a painful beat of silence creeping in, suffocating her before Ozai finally broke it.

“Perhaps this morbid fascination is merely pretense for a thirst to revel in the cruelty you suppose I deserved.”

Katara met his eyes with a blink, scoffing.  “Is that what you think?  That I get some sick joy from hearing the tales of your suffering?”

“Why not?  Most would, I’m sure you’d agree.”

The truth of it struck her silently.  Most people would likely take pleasure in knowing the man who had singlehandedly brought the world so close to ruin had known so much pain and suffering.  Ozai had gone on to do some unspeakable things.  Some truly atrocious acts.  But was it really fair to revel in the man’s suffering when it preceded the monster he had become?  Even a benign animal, when mistreated long enough, could become a vengeful, malicious thing.

“What did your father do to you?” Katara heard herself ask.

Ozai studied her for a moment.  Realizing she wasn’t taking the bait, he sighed wearily, looked away.  He gazed sullen off at nothing, and for a moment his mask seemed to slip, revealing something sad, defeated.  It was no wonder the man was tormented by nightmares, and she wondered what other demons ate away at him, haunting him in sleep.  She wasn’t sure why she wished to know.  What difference would it make?  It wasn’t as though she could heal him.

Her heart tugged strangely in her chest.  A whisper.

Katara’s skin tightened.  She knew she should end this now, let it go.  Why _did_ she care?  The man was a monster, there was nothing more to say, end of story.  Except that the more she had come to know him, the more distinctly un-monster-like and human Ozai was becoming.  And that was starting to feel like a slippery slope.

“Azulon was an avid substance abuser,” his voice came at last, low and smooth, dragging her eyes back to him.  “He had dealers far and wide, men and women who would give him drugs in return for political favors.  One night, while he was in a war meeting, I found a vial of Hush in his chambers.  A potent, liquid drug only accessible by the elite and powerful.  I had heard of it, of course, but had never tried it.  My father walked in on me taking a drop on my tongue.  He was furious and went into a rage.  Looking back, it was never about the drug.  It simply gave him the excuse he’d needed to unleash his wrath.  He tore the stopper off the vial and threw me to the floor, pinning me down, forcing the entire bottle of liquid down my throat.”  A subtle crease in the corner of his mouth.  “Half the bottle would have been a lethal dose.  But it had been almost full.  I don’t remember much beyond the violent vomiting and splitting pain.  It took me three days to regain consciousness, even with the healers.  That’s when I learned that Iroh had found me.  He called for help despite knowing that he might be severely punished.  He’s the only reason I survived.”

“Spirits…” Katara breathed, a cold pit growing in her stomach.  “What did your father do to Iroh when he found out?”

Ozai made a soft sound between a breath and a laugh.  “Nothing.  He simply pretended it never happened.”

At that, her heart sunk to her feet.  Azulon hadn’t laid a finger to Iroh even though the elder prince had technically acted against him.  The man had reserved all his abuse for Ozai.  It was becoming ever clearer to see why he carried so much hate and anger inside him.  If you can’t hurt the ones who hurt you, sometimes hurting anyone will do.

Katara quickly reminded herself that none of this could absolve Ozai of the crimes he’d committed.  His actions, his choices were his alone, not his father’s.  She studied him long and hard, searching his face like a pickpocket, trying to find the monster she knew to be lurking inside.  But all she could see was a man broken by a lifetime of hurt and pain.

The heaviness in her bones gave her pause.  Empathy could be a dangerous thing.  There was a strong pull inside her, like gravity, drawing her toward it and part of her wanted to let go, give in – the healer in her aching to mend the wound. 

The other part was terrified to delve any deeper for fear of glimpsing even a flicker of herself if their stories had been reversed.  What might she have become?  Empathy was dangerous because it meant looking someone else in the eye and realizing you could have been them.  And that the only thing separating you was luck.

The quiet was a heavy, brooding thing.  Ozai spared her a fleeting glance.  He must have read her expression because he gave a soft snort and broke her gaze with disdain.  “Spare me your compassion, girl.  I’m sure Iroh wishes he’d saved his.”

“What?  Why would you say that?”

Hard amber eyes fixed on the ground.  “I owed my life to him, quite literally.  A better man would have repaid the debt.  Instead, when Iroh’s only son died in the war and my brother unraveled in grief, I seized the opportunity to usurp his birthright.” 

Katara swallowed around the uncomfortable lump in her throat.  She wasn’t sure if she had imagined the odd tinge of remorse bleeding into his bitter tone.  There was a long, painful stretch before either of them said another word.  Pushing aside her misgivings, eyes cast down, Katara finally spoke.

“That still doesn’t make you deserving of what that man did to you.  No one deserves that.  And if you believe otherwise…”  She shook her head softly and looked up at him.  “…that’s your father talking.”

Ozai’s back straightened as his eyes met hers, his face darkening in a scowl.  In the space of a breath, the broken, vulnerable man was gone and her cold, distant captor returned.  With an odd pang of regret, Katara watched him frown off into the deepening shadows.  And for a moment, she found herself unable to look away.

Ozai was more handsome than a man like him had any right to be.  Her eyes traced along the strong line of his jaw to his bearded chin, his throat.  The solid bulk of his shoulders, roped with muscle, framed by hair dark and sleek as obsidian.  The sullen pout of his sculpted lips.

Butterflies fluttered warm and forbidden in her belly, mingling with a squeezing alarm.  Captivity was still captivity no matter how beautiful the jail, she quickly chided, as she tried – failed miserably – to squash the butterflies to extinction.  Deep in her chest stirred the faint tingle of something trying to take root.  Something she didn’t dare name.  She drew a soft, startled breath and forced her eyes away. 

_Spirits, no._

Katara bit her lip, holding her elbows tightly to her sides.  The butterflies in her stomach mocked her unease, their fluttering undeterred.  She cursed her natural affinity toward broken things and ducked her head, steeling herself to get up.

“It’s getting late,” she muttered, grateful for the shadows hiding the blush on her face as she made her way over and slipped into her sleeping bag.

A moment later, there came the whisper of movement nearby as Ozai crawled into his.  Releasing a tight breath, Katara wrapped her arms around her stomach and curled in on herself.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai’s mind drifted, hovering just at the precipice of sleep.  He kept his eyes closed, at times slipping over the edge just enough to feel the darkness enfolding him, the subtle shift of consciousness, but never far enough, always rising up again.  He breathed a soft, frustrated sigh, willing sleep to come and banish the girl’s words that were still echoing in his head.

He told himself she didn’t know him.  Only the bits and fragments he had allowed her to.  Her words held no weight, they meant nothing, and that girl was out of line to make a statement so bold on something so personal.  It had felt too intimate, exposed.  But despite his efforts to dismiss it, he felt Katara’s words burrowing under his skin like tiny slivers of glass.

It had been such a gradual thing, ingrained and stamped into him over so many years, that Ozai wasn’t sure when he had come to believe it.  That he had been somehow deserving of those heinous acts.  Azulon always had his reasons, and he’d always made sure that Ozai knew what they were before it started.  No one had ever dared to be so familiar with him or to speak so freely as to suggest he didn’t deserve it, and in truth Ozai hadn’t realized he _did_ believe it.  Until now.  Or how much of his inner voice might be polluted by his father.  It was like feeling his way through the dark, confident he knew the path, only to be handed a lighted torch and finding himself lost.  At last he could see, but the sudden clarity was glaring, painful.

As he drifted in and out, next to the faint caress of sleep Ozai felt the barest brush of… something.  Not a physical touch so much but something less tangible, like a curtain of cold silk against his consciousness.  For a moment, the sensation jarred him out of the haze but Ozai kept his eyes closed, holding on to what threads of sleep he could.

It felt familiar.  He was almost certain he could name it.  But he had never touched the seam while awake before.  It had only ever happened in sleep, entirely unpredictable and outside his control.  That strange spirit – Nesithra – had told him that the veil between worlds grows thin in sleep.  Could he have drifted just deep enough to touch it? 

Curiosity took hold.  Relieved to have something else to occupy his mind, Ozai drew a calm, steady breath and, with an exhale, willed his consciousness into the quiet deep.

Slow and steady.  Down, deeper.  Growing distantly aware of his slowing heartrate, his breath.  His mind was floating now, suspended in the darkness, the emptiness.  And finally, he felt it.  Like the cool skim of a satin sheet, bending to his will, stretching.  And with a soft shudder he felt it slide around him, felt the unmistakable shift in energy as he slipped through, the veil snapping back into shape behind him, intact.

Ozai opened his eyes at last.

The sky was a deep shade of pink, and on all sides he found himself surrounded by odd foliage.  Ozai stood along a stone walkway that ambled through what appeared to be a very large garden of sorts, imprisoning him with an array of strange and bizarre flora in every shape and color imaginable.  Some of which appeared to move and shift in the absence of any breeze at all, turning in his direction.

At his sudden appearance, several black bird-like spirits startled, puffing up their rotund bodies and whipping long, narrow tails, nearly falling from their perch on a flowering tree with a racket.  As quickly as they could muster, the not-birds flapped away, squawking and ungainly, wings too small for their portly figures, and disappearing from view.

Ozai could still hear their ruckus as he followed the path to where it finally ended in a seemingly bottomless staircase.  Wooden stairs, warped and battered and dripping with wisps of moss, spiraling down, down endlessly into the earth at his feet, swallowed by the unfathomable dark below.

The hairs prickled on Ozai’s neck and arms, an inexplicable fear squeezing his stomach.  The kind of instinctive warning that whispered _stop_ , in spite of any obvious danger.   He wasn’t sure how, but some sort of knowing skimmed the surface of his mind, running deep in his veins, chilling him to the marrow: if he followed the staircase down, he would never come back up.

Muscles drawn tight, he took a step back for good measure and focused on that thin tether of dark energy always tugging at him, luring him.  It was strong here, which meant Nesithra was close.  A thought took root in his mind.  It was a ghost of a chance at best, but perhaps he could coax a bit of help from her regarding the scroll and tablet.

With a single reach of his will, Ozai felt the familiar soft jolt as the planes of the world slid around him and suddenly he was there.  Sawtoothed horizon.  Churning amethyst sky. 

“Well, well.  You did it.  I admit, I’m impressed.”  Lightning winked murky inside a cloud, illuminating the cracked earth, the dead, twisted trees as the familiar voice crooned out.  “It’s fascinating what one can accomplish under the right pressure, isn’t it?”

Ozai crossed his arms as he stopped before the miasmic dome that funneled down from the clouds churning above.  “What do you mean?” he asked.  A shadow, dark and shapeless, flitted inside the opaque surface.

“Your little prisoner getting under your skin, is she?”

He could almost feel the smirk in her tone and he set his teeth, but quickly reminded himself of his purpose.  Dousing the rising heat of his anger, Ozai ventured, “Actually, I came to see you.”

The shadow coalesced into the shapely figure of a woman, hands gliding over her voluptuous curves to settle on her hips.  “I’m flattered.  Miss me, did you?  …Or perhaps you were simply hoping I might offer counsel on your present predicament.”

“So you do know about the scroll.  The tablet.”

“I’m familiar, yes.”

“Then perhaps you might enlighten me as to what any of it means.  The guardian, the mother–”

Neisthra laughed, a hollow sound that mocked his building frustration.  “You humans are so simple sometimes, it’s almost fascinating.  I had thought your intellect of a higher caliber than average, what a pity.  Honestly the guardian bit is so painfully obvious, if you don’t make sense of it in turn, you really don’t deserve the stones at all.”

His jaw and fists clenched.  Obvious to an ancient spirit who had likely seen the birth of it all.  “The part about the mother, more enduring than death, older than time?”

“Come now, don't be a spoilsport.  If I told you, it would rob you of the experience and where's the fun in that?”

“Why be difficult?” he snarled.  “You have nothing to lose by helping me.”

“Oh, but it’s much more entertaining to watch you struggle.”  The dark shape flickered into smoke, back into a woman.  “You know my terms, Ozai.  The stones, the portals, all of it, in exchange for my freedom.  Until then… have fun.”

Ozai sighed tight, his mouth a thin slash.  He had known this would be a futile exchange.  Why had he even–

The air rippled.  A deep, tingling discomfort lanced through him like an electric shock, a cold thread of energy suddenly writhing to life inside him.  At once familiar yet utterly foreign.  Nausea gripped him, cold sweat beading on his skin as Ozai spun around to see a shape materialize, one he knew all too well.

The avatar’s eyes snapped wide as they skated from Ozai to the pulsing dome, back to Ozai beneath deeply lowered brows.

“What are you doing here, Ozai?  Get away from her!” he roared, charging fast and Ozai barely had time to dart out of reach, Nesithra’s warning rushing back.  If the boy managed to seize him in the spirit world, Ozai would be unable to return to his body in the physical world until released.  And the Avatar didn’t have much incentive to release him.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Ozai smirked faintly.  “That little thread of energy that writhes to life inside you whenever we’re near.  It’s how you found me.”  Squaring his jaw, the avatar stayed silent, muscles tightening, poised to attack again.  “Turns out your energy bending had an unintended side effect, little boy,” he sneered, taunting, as he reached his consciousness toward the seam.

“Don’t worry.  I plan to take care of that right now,” Aang snarled, storming toward him again.  But Ozai could already feel the veil’s cool touch.  The boy’s fingers just made contact with his arm as the seam parted around him, snapping shut again.

Aang’s hand closed around nothing, Ozai there one instant and gone the next.  He released a sharp breath, pressing his fists to his eyes when a smooth voice sent a shiver up his spine.

“Poor little boy.  The cat bested by the mouse once again.”

Aang turned slowly, glaring darkly.  “Nesithra…”

“Avatar.  It's been a long time.  Lifetimes, you might say.  I'm flattered you remember me.”

“As though I would forget,” he said sourly.  “Why was Ozai here?  What does he want with you?”

A laugh, sharp and cold, piercing the air.  “You assume it's _he_ who wants something from _me_?”

A wave of disquiet struck him cold.  Aang quickly reminded himself that the demon was trapped in an unbreakable prison bound with powerful, eternal magic.  The only way she could ever hope to escape was if the magic holding her weakened.  Practically impossible.  But somehow, the assurance tasted hollow.

“What is Ozai planning?”

“I'd love to tell you.  I really would,” she answered, her tone light with scorn.  “But seeing as how your past-self imprisoned me here for all eternity, I really don't see much incentive to do so.  Unless, of course, you’re willing to buy my help.”

“You know that’s out of the question.  Tell me what you know or–”

“Or what?  You have nothing more with which to threaten me.  Best be on your way now if you hope to stand any chance in stopping him.  Your time is running out.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

Silence.  A lonely rumble of thunder.

“ _What_ does that mean?” he demanded, louder.

With an airy, scornful laugh, the figure vanished into smoke, a flash of violet lightning racing over the dome’s surface.

“Nesithra!” Aang howled.

A disembodied voice drifted on the air.

 “ _Tick tock_.” 

* * *

Shadows drifted across the expanse of flowing grass, clouds passing overhead in feathery patterns.  It had been two days since Ozai had ventured into the spirit world.  Two days since the forest had spat them out onto a rolling grassland.  Boulders and stunted trees peppered the landscape, scrubby bushes growing in clumps, and a short way to the east the gentle hills rose into low, rocky peaks.

“That’s the Matriarch,” Lu Da said as they walked, pointing to the shallow ridge.

“The… what?” Katara asked with a confused lift of a brow.

“The Matriarch they call it.  Somewhat of a landmark in these parts.  The highest point there is said to resemble a woman with her arms stretched toward the heavens, as though in prayer, watching over the land.”

“Huh,” she smiled.  “That’s kinda nice.  Now that you mention it, I can see the likeness.”

Ozai had to admit the ridge’s crest did abstractly resemble the torso of a woman reaching skyward.  An unusual formation to be sure.

They trekked through the wild grass, deer and gazelle-rabbits moving furtively about, darting away at their approach.  The sun slid across the sky and at last they came to rest beside a scrubby tree, the only form of cover to be found along the vast stretch of grassland.  A rich carpet of flowers spread out around them, staining the earth red.

The landscape was wide-open, rendering them as discreet as a signal fire at night.  It was going to be harder and harder to keep out of sight the closer they got to the city.  More travelers, wandering townsfolk.  He had noted a sparse patch of forest on the map just outside Tiankong, but even that wouldn’t be much for cover.  The sooner they could get there – and get out quickly with what he hoped would prove something of interest – the sooner they could retreat to a safer place, think through their next steps.

Lu Da divvied out food and Ozai took a bite of duck jerky, staring at a bald patch in the grassy turf.  His mind wandered to the shallow peaks they had passed.  The remarkable structure of it.  And as he took his last bite, a thought sparked to life in his mind, flickering, catching like wildfire.  Ozai stopped chewing, the world standing still, his eyes going wide.  Reaching into the satchel, he fished out the riddle, raked his eyes fervently over the text again.

_…one mother shall remain even when the stars have burnt out_

_…strength unshakeable in roots unseen_

“What is it?” he heard Lu Da ask.

_…with arms outstretched, she sees the birth and life and death of all_

_…and in her breast a path to the sun when earth and air embrace_

One mother.  Arms outstretched.  It couldn’t be… 

“The Matriarch…” Ozai breathed.

“Come again?”  The captain walked over, peered over his shoulder and Ozai handed him the page.

“The Matriarch,” he repeated.  “I think it’s one of the portals.”

Lu Da’s bronze eyes widened as they flitted over the script.  “Kyoshi’s sweet ass dimples,” he muttered.

“Did you honestly just swear by an avatar’s ass dimples?”

“Forget that, if you really think this is one of the portals, what the hell are we waiting for?  Let’s go back.”

Ozai exhaled, frowning at the wild grass glimmering in the sun.  The other man tilted his head, the unspoken question at his hesitance.  Ozai wanted to go back.  If he was right, it would catapult his plan toward realization.  Close enough to taste the sweet victory of revenge.  But so much of this endeavor had already been plagued with adversity, with complexity and guile.  Much as he yearned for it, a massive piece of the plot falling into place, he didn’t want to rush in before every piece was accounted for.

“When earth and air embrace,” the captain urged, waving the page toward the satchel.  “The Earthstone and Windstone.  You have both of those, why not just go ahead–”

“I don’t want to take the risk of doing anything until we have all four,” Ozai cut in, glancing up at him.  “We’ve been caught by surprise too many times already, we need to be prepared.”

Lu Da pursed his lips but nodded.  “Fair enough.”

Rising to his feet, Ozai went from looking up at the man to looming over him, gaze angled down to meet his eyes.  “We must be getting close to Tiankong now.  How much farther?”

“Another couple days yet, I’d say, keeping a brisk pace.”

Ozai cursed softly, gaze shifting to Katara who was seated and bent over the tablet.

“You’ve been scribbling on that paper for days now,” he said tartly.  “Are you certain you’re trying to decipher the tablet, or have you simply been doodling?” 

The girl didn’t look up, didn’t react to his ridicule.  Didn’t even seem to hear him.  Ozai narrowed his eyes as Katara sat up straighter, blinking at the paper.

“What?” he asked.

“…I think I’ve figured it out,” she muttered in a strangely cautious tone, eyes glued to the paper in her hand.  He pressed his lips together with a sigh, impatience rising as he waited for her to continue.

“ _And_?  What does it say?”

Her gaze was ice cold she met his.  With unbridled insolence, Katara held the parchment up and began reciting. 

“’I bleed and surrender myself to the universe, becoming one with its heart as it fills me.  And from these roots I am thus unearthed.’”  She arched an angry brow at Ozai.  “ _That’s_ what the runes around the border say.”

His brows lowered.  “Is there a problem?”

Katara scoffed.  “This doesn’t sound just a tiny bit eerie to you?”

“What about the runes in the center, here?”  He pointed to the large block of hieroglyphs, brushing past her concern.  Katara snatched up the paper and handed it to him.

“Read it for yourself.” 

Ozai took it, frowning, as she crossed her arms tightly and he began to read.

 _I call to earth to bind this plea_  
_And air the swiftest travel be._  
_Bright as fire may it gleam,_  
_Deep as tide of water stream._  
_Four seasons, four elements,_  
_Four powers, four-fold._  
_With the fifth I bind them_  
_And the magic will hold._

He glanced back up and met her stormy scowl.

“I told you if I saw any creepy voodoo–”

He rolled his eyes, handing back the paper.  “Don’t be dramatic, girl.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Katara shot to her feet, parchment wrinkling in her clenched fist.  “So I’m supposed to chant this incantation while cutting myself and bending my own blood onto magical stones to open up some crazy portal thing.  Yeah, you’re _right_.  I’m just being _dramatic_.  I should feel completely comfortable with this.”  She snorted and crossed her arms.  “I mean, seriously, did you even read these words?”

Lu Da shifted and drew her gaze.  “Maybe it’s just written that way for show.  You know, the theatrics of it.”  She shot him a thunderous glare and he shrugged.

“There is nothing ominous here,” Ozai said with finality, plucking the paper out of her hand.  He turned away and slipped it into the small satchel with the stones, shouldering the bag.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Katara grumbled behind him.  “You’re not the one cutting yourself for some dark sacrament.”

Ozai turned back, mouth open to speak, and drew to a halt.  In her anger she had stepped after him and was standing too close, glaring, arms crossed tight.  Close enough for him to make out the violet flecks in her blue irises.  The flushed, dewy skin of her face.  Ozai stifled the urge to flinch, all the nerves in his body firing at once.  Mask of composure in place, he took a subtle step back, intent on keeping a measure of distance between them.

“Think of it as one step closer to the end of our deal,” he tipped his head, simpering.

Katara gave a soft snort, sulking.  “Can’t come soon enough.”


	23. A Trick of the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take that, Writers Block. Yay for a new chapter.  
> (Possible trigger warning for brief description of animal suffering.)

The infirmary hummed around him as Zuko rapped softly on the door to Mai's room. He braced himself with a breath and cracked it open. His wife was sitting up in bed, a measure of color restored to her cheeks as the nurse pressed two fingers to her wrist, nodded, resting Mai's hand back down on the bed. His muscles loosened a measure with the rush of relief.

As he entered the room, the nurse bowed, a smile plumping up her cheeks. "She has stabilized, my lord. The bleeding has all but diminished and her energy is returning. The doctor has strict orders that she remain in bed for while we monitor her progress, but if all goes the way we hope, she will be able to do so in her own chambers soon."

A twinge of worry cut through the ease. Zuko was almost afraid to ask. "And the baby?"

"As far as we can tell, the baby is fine and healthy, my lord."

Zuko exhaled, the last of the tension uncoiling.

"I'll give you some privacy," she warbled, taking her leave, the door clicking softly closed behind her.

For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence, a ghost of a smile blooming on Mai's lips. Her voice was husky, still laden with weariness.

"They say the baby's okay."

Zuko smiled back softly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not losing pints of blood anymore," she said, shrugging. "I feel great."

Breathing a laugh, Zuko sat carefully down on the bed beside her, the linens rustling beneath his weight. He took one of her cool hands in both of his, held her gaze.

"Hikaru," she said at length, Zuko raising a brow.

"What?"

"Hikaru. I always liked that name."

His smile spread. "How do you know it's a boy?"

Shrugging, her tawny eyes glinted as she answered, "Just a hunch." A note of gladness touched her lips and just as quickly vanished again. "I'm sorry about Katara."

Zuko looked away, leaden gaze falling to the stark white bedding. He knew she was every bit as sorry as a cat who'd stolen the mouse from a viper.

"You've nothing to be sorry about," he rasped. He felt her hand stiffen against his.

"You felt what you felt, Zuko. No need to deny it."

"I'm not."

It was quiet. Mai brought her hand to his jaw, turning his eyes back to her. "No need to lie either."

As he made his way back from the infirmary, muscles wound tight all over again, a guard marched around a corner toward him, a servant at his side. Both bowed in turn, Zuko slowing to a stop.

"Fire Lord," the servant said, bent low, his reflection crisp in the polished floors. "Your search party has returned. They await in your office with news."

Nodding thanks, Zuko stalked there directly to find Azek, Nori, and Emiko standing before his desk, a komodo-rhino skin pouch sagging in Azek's hand.

"Did you find the cagrium deposits?" Zuko asked straightaway. Screw the pleasantries.

Azek pinched his lips together, nodded grim. "We did, one."

The three scouts shifted of their feet, exchanged glances. "Why do I get the feeling that's not all you found?" Zuko prodded, eyes narrowed.

"There was a sinkhole," Azek began at length. "We watched caravans tracking to and from it for two days, so we waited until they were gone and sneaked down to check it out. That's where we found the cagrium ore…"

"And a big rotting pile of corpses," Emiko proclaimed. The girl didn't mince words, he'd give her that. Zuko grimaced.

"Corpses?"

"The experiments on benders. Whatever they're doing to them, it's brutal." Nori's face twisted, as though seeing it all over again. "Horrific."

"Turns out, they're extracting the ore from the sinkhole and then tossing all the bodies from the fouled-up experiments down there," Azek explained.

"We even brought back a souvenir," added Emiko, smirking.

Azek held out the pouch and Zuko peered inside, curling his lip at the stench.

"Ugh… good work," he commended, taking the pouch between his forefinger and thumb. "I'll pass this on to my technicians, see what they can extract."

"What should we do in the meantime, Fire Lord?" Azek asked.

Zuko chewed his lip, caught himself and squared his shoulders, expelling a breath. Thinking. "This discovery is huge. It means that their experimentation process is far from perfect yet. That it's not necessarily up and running full steam, the way they'd have us think. And that means a greater chance we'll be able to stop them before they create more of these abominations and up their advantage."

"Due respect, Fire Lord, but we still don't know how many experiments have gone right," Emiko countered. "The number could dwarf the corpses we found."

"If that were true, the rebels would have attacked again by now. But Azula's forces are working their way up from the south, claiming territory slowly in hopes of strangling the capital into submission. Why would she take the time if she had that kind of manpower?"

The three soldiers nodded in agreement, Azek shifting on his feet.

"So, what would you have us do?"

Zuko looked over the scouts before him, their ready postures, their eager expressions. They were young, perhaps yet unjaded, and he hated to ask them to put more on the line in his name than they already had… But war left no room for sentimentality.

"Go back to the sinkhole. I want you to follow the next caravan from a safe distance, see where it leads, what they're doing. Their progress on the warfront and the benders. Anything you can find out." As they bowed assent and turned to go, Zuko found himself wavering, stepping after them despite himself to mutter, "Be careful."

The three of them paused, stood straighter with solemn looks of respect as they disappeared through the door.

* * *

The land was a wash of grey, a sea of uneven ground and treeless hills, of mist-filled hollows and heather-clad slopes rolling on for miles. Dew hung heavy in the cool air of early morning, faint ribbons of pink just barely weaving into the pale sky as Katara trekked behind Ozai and Lu Da.

They had gotten an early start, Ozai anxious to cover as much open ground as they could while the sun was still asleep. The moor's uncultivated expanse was seemingly endless, populated only by the array of wildlife eyeing them from a safe distance as they passed. So naturally, the tiny little hut up ahead caught their attention.

Katara heard Ozai curse softly as they slowed, trying to assess if the cabin was lived in. But as they grew closer it became obvious the place had been abandoned.

The hut crouched amid the tall, wild grass like a sleeping bear. Its roof was thickly thatched with coarse straw and a stone chimney jutted up at an angle, furry with moss. The rough-planked sides were weathered silver as an old rock, lending it an almost underwater appearance – that barnacled silveriness, weeds and seedpods growing out of the roof like seaweed, the still, stained, sunken light of morning.

"Strange place to set up residence," Ozai muttered, Lu Da motioning to a slipshod table out front, dark stains sunk deep in the weathered wood.

"A hunter's cabin. That's where they clean their kills, I wager."

In the center of a large circle of rocks, the charred remains of a fire pit stood cold in the pale morning like a skeleton. A few feet away, as they walked, Katara caught the glimpse of something dark blotting the tussocks of grass.

Lu Da must have seen it too, edging closer to get a better look. And as she followed cautiously behind, an ache spread cold through her chest at the sight.

It was a dog, emaciated, skin stretched over bony ribs, two of which were broken and sticking out like jagged teeth, its entire body streaked with dried blood. One of its eyes had been crushed to a meaty pulp, the socket nearly indistinguishable beneath the mess of bone and ooze and gore. Burns and purple welts were scattered across the animal's skeletal body like a disease.

"Oh, my gods… how awful," Katara whispered, her insides quivering as Lu Da knelt before the dog, shaking his head.

"What I'd do to get my hands on the bastards that did this. Show them the same mercy they showed her."

"You think someone did this to her?" she asked, dismayed.

He cast her a flinty-eyed look over his shoulder. "You know any animal capable of brandishing this amount of blunt trauma, just to leave them to die?"

She knew he was right. An icy vise squeezed her at the thought of the kind of person who could do this to an innocent creature.

A hint of movement came, so faint Katara thought she might have imagined it when the dog released the faintest, weakest whimper.

"Shhhit, it's alive…" Lu Da breathed out.

"Spirits…"

At her side, Ozai shifted on his feet, eyeing it with an unreadable expression. "You should put that thing out of its misery. But do it quick, we need to press on."

Lu Da laid a hand over the dog's crusted face, stroked her head, speaking softly. The dog whined again, a feeble sound that gouged at her heart and Lu Da glanced up at Katara.

She knew the question even before he asked it.

"Can you heal her?"

Katara gazed at the pitiful animal, beaten and pulverized. "…I don't know," she said quietly. Before her eyes, she watched the dim life ebbing in its shallow breaths.

A memory flashed. Ozai, chest gaping, hemorrhaging life, lying in a growing pool of red. It had been nothing short of a miracle, but she had brought him back from death's door. The animal now might be too far gone… but she owed it to the poor thing to at least try.

"Let me see her," Katara whispered. Lu Da moved aside as she kneeled down, gently hushing the dog's frail whimpers. At her will, the morning dew coalesced into a bubble of water in her hands.

She placed both her palms down along its blood-crusted coat as the water began to glow. All at once, an engulfing wave of nausea and crippling pain nearly took her under, rising in her gullet, almost making her vomit. Panicked, she jerked back, choking, water splashing as she nearly tumbled over, Lu Da grabbing her shoulders to stop her fall.

"What?"

Katara blinked away the pain, mouth working. "I don't know. I think… I can feel her somehow. What she's feeling." Her breath came short and harsh and Lu Da shifted uncomfortably.

"Maybe you shouldn't–"

"No," she cut in, swallowing, steeling her gut. "I have to try."

Taking a deep breath, Katara pressed her hands to the dog again, pushing back against the surge of sickness and agony, squeezing her eyes shut as she reached deep. Countless raw threads brushed against her touch, the ragged holes, the bruised flesh.

Promptly, methodically, she began to pull. Careful not to go too fast, for fear of throwing the dog into shock. Afraid to go too slow, for fear she wouldn't be able to handle it. Cold and pain snaked up her arms, down into her stomach. Katara thought she might retch, her gut lurching, her chest wringing. Vomit bubbled into her throat as she gasped against the agony.

Spirits, she couldn't do it. The damage was too far, the pain too much. The edges of her vision were going dark, her head swimming, and Katara was seconds from blacking out when suddenly the cold started to recede, the grip of suffering uncoiling as the very last threads rejoined. Her breaths came freer, the nausea fading away.

Katara sat back with a shaky breath, her body limp. Watching the dog for any sign of life. The animal laid still for just a beat too long and Lu Da's shoulders slumped in a sigh just as the dog lifted its head off the ground, the weak thump and swish of its tail flapping against the grass as it looked at them. Its crushed socket was scarred over, the angry flesh soothed and mended.

The dog staggered once as it dragged to its feet, tail swinging, licking gratefully at Katara's face with a flat, pink tongue. Katara laughed brightly, stroking the dog's neck as she puckered her face against the slobbery love. Its coat was still crusted with dried blood, and the dog was in desperate need of a good scrubbing, but the evidence of those gruesome wounds was all but gone.

"Amazing," breathed Lu Da, grinning broadly as he stooped down to pet the dog who greeted him with a warm, wet kiss. "There you go, girl. Nearly good as new, huh?"

Ozai hung back, watching the gushing display of affection with an inscrutable face. "We've wasted time enough. The sun will be rising soon, we need to get moving."

Lu Da stood, Katara in turn, giving it one final pat and sidling reluctantly away from the resuscitated pooch as they set off again. With a spring in its step, the canine fell into step behind them, cocking its head as they cast a glance over their shoulders.

Lu Da smiled. "Well, looks like we've gained a new companion."

"Don't be absurd," argued Ozai, ever the storm cloud raining upon the parade. "We can't have that mutt following us, it's attention we do  _not_  need."

The dog was undeterred as it pranced after them, blissfully unaware.

"I don't think she heard you," he smirked.

Ozai glowered but fell silent, obviously outvoted.

It was mid-morning when the three of them – or  _four_ of them, as it now appeared – reached the scant patch of forest just outside Tiankong, catching a short rest and gathering their wits before venturing into town.

"The mutt is not coming," Ozai asserted with finality.

Through her disappointment, Katara knew he was right. It would be unwise to have the animal tailing them when the last thing they needed was unwanted attention. As though it had understood his accusation, the dog cocked her head with a whine, shambling up to Ozai and nudging his hand with her head.

Ozai stiffened, as though unsure what to do. Tentatively, he extended one hand, grimacing as she licked it once, gazing up at him with drunken affection, floppy-tongued and panting.

Katara chuckled in amusement. Lu Da grinned. And then a very odd thing happened. Ozai  _almost_  seemed to smile. A ghost, a trick of the light, as he stiffly stroked his hand over the dog's head.

"Well, fuck me softly with a jacksaw," the captain murmured. "It seems you've made a new friend, Ozai."

The larger man scoffed but continued lightly rubbing her behind one scraggly ear. "I wouldn't go that far.

"Right, is there a manager I can speak to? There's been a huge blooming mistake, this one's defective."

"Stop it," Katara chided playfully, glancing softly at Ozai. "She obviously likes you. You know, they say dogs can sense if there's good in a person."

Ozai slid her a contemptuous look from the corner of his eye, mouth twisting. "And some dogs eat their own feces."

Lu Da unshouldered the satchel, digging through. "I agree, we can't take her with us. But…"

He drew out a length of rope. Katara felt a faint rolling of her stomach at the sight. It was the same rope Ozai had used to bind her wrists and ankles. How long ago that seemed now, like remembering a dream. Unconsciously, her eyes skated to Ozai just as he glanced sidelong at her, his expression hardening as he promptly looked away.

Lu Da tied the dog to a tree, holding out a strip of duck jerky in his palm and ignoring Ozai's protests of wasting food. She accepted it hungrily, lapping at the creases of his hand. "There you go, girl. That oughta do you till we get back."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Carts rattled by, timeworn buildings growing out of the cracked streets like the jagged gap-toothed beggars they passed. From every covered doorway came the dejected stares of men and women and children as Katara wandered the outer rim of Tiankong. She wasn't entirely sure what she had expected, but given the attractive face of the advertisement she'd just assumed the city might be… cleaner. More inviting.

Something pungent and foul-smelling splashed to the ground and all three of them leaped aside, grimacing.

"Did someone just empty their chamber pot on us?!" she gasped.

"Hey, at least they missed," Lu Da muttered as they looked around. "We could be wandering this filth for hours, what we need is a map."

As though the captain had willed it into being, they came upon a tiny merchant stand covered with a threadbare brown awning, selling chipped pottery, handmade knick-knacks, Earth Kingdom paraphernalia, and, conveniently, maps of the city.

Ozai tossed the merchant a coin, earning them a snaggletoothed farewell as they studied the map to gain their bearings, roaming on through an area the map identified as the Green District.

Katara looked around. A deceiving misnomer, to put it mildly. The only visible green she could see was the mold on the sides of some of the houses, standing wilted along the weary streets, lined with wearier faces. People worked to the bone for barely enough to scrape by.

"Where do you suppose that shop's at?" Lu Da asked.

Katara glanced at Ozai as he raked his eyes over the map. "Doubtful a shop with enough funds to advertise would set up in an area like this. I think we should try the Sky District," he said, pointing to a section of the map. "There's a town hall, several restaurants and shops. More likely to be there."

"I'm with you on that," Lu Da nodded.

Entering the Sky District was like stepping out of a dreary, grey fog and into the sunlight. Two worlds living side by side, separated by nothing more than life's lottery. And high stone walls for good measure.

Here the labyrinth of streets and buildings were clean, and their residents in kind, blissfully or willfully ignorant of the poverty just beyond the district's boundaries. A pair of children in fine Earth Kingdom clothes darted past, squealing merrily as their very pregnant mother waddled behind.

"Where do we even start in a place like this?" Katara asked, looking around as they strolled aimlessly. To say the town was large was like saying Fire Nation summers were a little hot. Roads weaved and crossed and climbed, brimming with all manner of structures.

The heart of the Sky District was a bustling assortment of boutiques, restaurants, a fancy book store, a spa. They passed a three-tiered fountain rimmed with lotus sculptures, the chuckling waters winking in the midday sun. A notice board towered at the edge of the square. Katara's eyes skimmed it absently, about to open her mouth to say something when she stopped short, drawing a breath. On either side, both men slowed to a halt, turning to look at her and following her line of sight.

There on the notice board hung a large poster of Ozai, boasting a lavish reward. And directly beside his, with a sum to match, was her own face staring back.

_WANTED_

A stunned silence descended. Her heart dropped like lead, cold and heavy. All this time, she had clung desperately to the hope that, somehow, she would escape the punishment for her actions. That even if the truth came out, Zuko would never come after her like some vile criminal. Deep down, Katara had known it was a fool's hope, and in that instant she felt it breathe its last, withered to dust at her feet.

Her insides twisted, imagining the dismay and anger on Zuko's face. The hurt and betrayal on Sokka's. And her father… Oh spirits.

A tingle spread down her neck as she came aware of Ozai looking at her. Katara staunchly avoided looking back, dreading the snide remark she knew was coming. The man was quiet just long enough for relief to bud in her chest, the pressure of his gaze tracking over her face.

"Well, well," he crooned. "If it isn't the consequences of your actions."

Katara turned, glaring at him with black venom.

Beside her, Lu Da blew out a puff of air. "Well… guess that makes you officially one of us now."

Despite herself, Katara choked out a brittle laugh. Her feet felt glued to the ground as they started up again, doing their best to sidestep townsfolk and keep to the edges of streets.

* * *

"Womp, womp."

Sokka slid the large stone tile into place with a scraping rumble, another winning move. Toph felt the reverb in her feet as they stood atop the life-sized pai sho board, Sokka barking a hoot of victory. The gaming court had been Zuko's latest addition to the palace gardens. He'd had it crafted of stone to ensure Toph would be included.

"Did you just  _womp womp_  a blind girl, Snoozles?" Hands on her hips, Toph played livid but she couldn't keep the smile from twisting onto her lips at his playful jabs. Heat rose onto her cheeks and she scourged the stupid blood vessels in her face.

"Sure did. Cause this  _blind girl_  just got her patootie walloped in a game of pai sho for the  _second_  time! How's it taste, loser?"

"Like a  _fluke_ ," Toph spat, a grin splitting her face. "One more round and I'll have you singing a different tune."

"Oh-ho, is that right? Guess we'll just have to see about that."

Sokka slid into gaming position again. They had been spending more time together at least, so that had to count for something. But Sokka still hadn't said another word about what happened that night in the tavern. The kiss they had shared. The obvious feelings between them. He had said things were still raw around his breakup with Suki, but that was weeks ago now…

 _Maybe he's just not that into you_ , she'd told herself. Hard as it was, Toph had decided to let it go, putting her friendship over the ache she felt. On the surface, things looked more or less normal again. But underneath was a constant tension, warm and prickling, like the air before a summer storm.

Footsteps crunched over the stone court, drawing their focus, and Toph knew the vibration even before she turned to see his form.

"Hey, Zuko," Sokka said, his competitive stance loosening. "Good news, I hope?"

"Mai's doing well," Zuko confirmed as he came to stand before them, the relief brimming in his tone. "The bleeding's stopped. She's still on bedrest for now, but the verdict is she's recovering and the baby is healthy."

"Glad to have some good news for a change," another voice chimed in from behind and Toph turned to find Aang marching up. "I'm really happy for you, Zuko… And, I hate to replace that burden with another so soon, but…"

"What is it?" Zuko asked, his expression darkening with the mood.

Aang stopped before them with a grim expression. "It's Ozai. He was in the spirit world again. But this time, he wasn't alone."

"…What do you mean?"

Aang released a breath, pausing briefly before continuing. "Its name is Nesithra."

"It?" Zuko asked, lifting a brow.

"Her, it, take your pick. An ancient being that was imprisoned in the spirit world eons ago by Avatar Sanzen, in a secluded part of the realm. But it seems now Ozai has made her acquaintance."

Sokka fidgeted. "Something tells me that isn't good."

"It's not. And it was obvious that this wasn't the first time they've spoken."

"Okay, but explain this to me," Zuko cut in, shaking his head. "Who, or what, is Nesithra? And, if she's trapped inside a prison in the spirit world, how dangerous can she be?"

"Trust me. You don't want to find out. Nesithra is pure and utter evil with a consciousness. Literally. A creature born of all the world's hatred, violence, suffering, the embodiment of darkness. She wreaks discord and anguish wherever she goes, and her power feeds off the dark energy like a leech, gaining more power with every terrible act committed. At her strongest, she was able to infiltrate people's minds, possess them, driving them to madness and destroying them with their worst fears."

Eyes widened. No one uttered a word. A weak breeze stirred the hair at Toph's temple, the world sighing around them.

"Nesithra's power when unchecked is devastating. She nearly destroyed the world before," Aang took up again. "If she were ever to escape–"

"You think Ozai plans to release her?" Sokka asked.

Aang hesitated. "I don't know. Part of me doesn't think he'd have the means – Avatar Sanzen was thorough when he hewed her prison. And despite who Ozai is, I'd like to believe he'd have more sense than to do that."

"You give him too much credit," Zuko muttered sourly. Sighing, lips pursed tight, he went on. "Look, let's just try to stay calm, focus on the cards stacked in our favor. The more Ozai enters the spirit world, the more chances we'll have to hone in on his location. And now it isn't just Ozai's face flying on posters all over the world, but Katara's." Sokka winced and shifted his weight, Zuko avoiding his gaze. "We have squadrons of guards on patrol in every corner of the Earth Kingdom. I have to believe that it won't be much longer before they're apprehended."

"Nice stab at the positive, Sparky, and I don't disagree with you," Toph chimed in. "But now more than ever, I'd say the stakes are dire. If this spirit  _is_  grooming Ozai in hopes he'll release her, we're racing against the clock. A desperate man with a plan, there's no telling what he might do in order to achieve his ends. And from the way it sounds, if Nesithra breaks free…" Toph trailed off. The four friends exchanged a nervous glance as Aang completed her thought.

"Then Ozai's plan will be the least of our worries."

* * *

The crown of a very tall building speared the sky, scattering the sun at its head like a halo. From a distance, it looked as if it might have been a belfry but as they grew closer, Ozai could see now that it was a grand clocktower. The building was as long as it was tall, home to a wide variety of shops and businesses.

As they stopped to get their bearings, Ozai heaved a sigh, looking around. They had been wandering fruitlessly for too long. With every second that passed, their risk of exposure heightened. But searching a town of this size for a single shop was like sifting through layers and layers of silt for the speck of gold.

"Where do you wa–"

The sudden gonging of a bell pealed long and deep, rolling through the town and drowning out Lu Da's voice as the clocktower heralded the new hour. Ozai waited for the tolling to cease, looking up at the elaborate designs carved into the turret. Even the clock's hands were finely detailed.

All at once, amid the tangle of thoughts in his head, one path lit up like a torch, melting the rest away.

 _A sentinel without fingers, he points,_  
_without arms he strikes,_  
_without a mouth, he sings._  
_In the heart of the clouds where he abides_  
_Does the moon thus sleep…_

A clock… He had to be right.

On guardian standing watch in the heart of the heavens. The heart of the Sky District.

"It's here," Ozai murmured, pivoting slowly, eyes combing the square.

In a detached building across the way, Ozai just barely caught a glimpse of that familiar emblem amid the glare on the polished wood sign. The two trees, the sun and moon. They had almost passed it by.

"There," he nodded.

Slowly, without drawing attention, they crossed the road between shadows and stopped beneath the sign:  _Tonro's Curios:_ _Rarities, Oddities, & the Finest Antiquities._

"All right. So we made it. What now?" Lu Da asked. "Not like either of you can just waltz in there and demand the Moonstone, if it's even here. Your faces are on display like a prize cow for all the town to see."

Ozai shook his head. "No. But if you go in alone, there's little chance of you swiping the stone without getting caught. If you're able to locate it at all."

"What we need is a diversion." Lu Da's lips pulled to the side in thought. "What if I go in, chat up the shopkeeper, keep him busy while you two sneak around back, see if you can find another way in."

"Wait a minute. I'm not breaking in, I'm a wanted woman as it is," Katara argued, but Ozai could see the fight bleeding out of her even before he responded.

"You don't have a choice," he rumbled. "The sooner we get what we came for, the sooner we can get out of here."

"It's worth a shot," Lu Da nodded. Strolling to the door, he gave them one last look as he puffed himself up, opening it. A shrill bell chimed as he stepped inside, the door slamming shut after him.

Ozai kept watch over his shoulder as he steered Katara around the side to the rear of the building where another structure backed up to it, creating a wide alleyway in between.

The alley's shadows were cooler and quiet, out of reach of the summer sun. Ozai found a door along the rear of the building, wrapping his hand around the cool metal handle and pulling. It didn't budge. He tried pushing but again it held fast. With a sigh, he looked around, spotted a window, but it was obviously too small to climb through.

A few feet ahead, the shadows deepened at the base of the building. A stairwell, Ozai realized, leading below.

"Let's try down there," Ozai said, ushering Katara toward it.

The way down was narrow and dark and thick with musty air, the stone layered with grime.

"No way," she hissed, pulling back. "Who knows what's down–?"

"It wasn't a question. Go."

The girl jutted her chin with careless scorn. "Make m–"

His hand flew to her arm, wrenching tight. Ozai watched Katara strive to hold her ground as he loomed over her, glaring. " _That_  is a sentence you do not want to finish."

The sound of voices trickled down the alley. The stubbornness in her eyes drained as they widened, both of them glancing toward the faint  _clomp clomp_  of heavy boots growing near.

Guards. Ozai knew it in the strong, steady pace. Even if he was wrong, which he wasn't, it was obvious to anyone that they shouldn't be back here, they could easily be ratted out.

Meeting her gaze again, Ozai could see the realization unfold, the slackening of her jaw, the tensing of her shoulders. The girl now had a vested interested in staying out of sight. Her face was brandished high next to his for all to see. It was no question now that whatever they might find down there was preferable to running up against guards in this town.

Rolling her eyes closed with a sigh, Katara turned and stole swiftly and quietly down the grimy stone stairwell, Ozai at her heels. A rusty metal door met them at the end, Ozai shooting a glance over his shoulder as he tried the handle. It didn't turn.

The voices were growing dangerously close as Ozai grasped hold with both hands, yanking with as much force as he could manage while keeping quiet. There was a sharp click as the latch snapped free of the corroded frame and the door grinded open. Ozai held it ajar just enough for Katara to slip through, Ozai following, pulling the door shut behind him just as a squadron of guards passed by above the stairwell.

Katara breathed a deep sigh beside him as Ozai tried to get his bearings. The inside was pitch dark and dank. As his eyes adjusted, Ozai could just barely make out the deeper black of unseen objects crowding the shadows. A dim chink of light seeped in from the ceiling a little distance ahead, just enough for him to distinguish a steep wooden ladder beneath.

"This way," he whispered.

They started forward, feeling their way through the dark. The room was littered with all manner of rubble, items and boxes large and small. Katara tripped over something on the floor, sent it rattling in the other direction and Ozai hissed for her to be quiet.

A critter scurried out of their way, Ozai swatting a loose spiderweb from his face as they came to stand before the ladder.

"What if someone's up there?" Katara urged quietly. "We're trying  _not_  to get caught, remember?"

Ozai hesitated. He knew she was right. But barring picking the lock out front in the wide open, this seemed to be the next best option.

"If anyone's up there, just kill them," he replied as he edged toward the ladder.

"Kill them?!"

"Politely," he sneered, turning back to her. The girl scoffed. "All we need is the Moonstone and we can get out of this town. If that means taking out a few unlucky bystanders, so be it." Ozai heard her mutter something unsavory under her breath as he started up.

The old wooden rungs were scratched and dusty, bowing beneath his weight. At the top, Ozai felt around the trap door, slivers of light slicing across his face as his fingers scraped over a cold metal latch plate. It was locked from the other side. Naturally.

Sliding the blade from his belt, Ozai carefully worked it between the latch until there came a muted  _clink_  and the latch popped free. He hilted his blade and, steeling himself with a breath, slowly pushed open the hatch and looked around.

The room was lit with sconces and chock full of strange and exotic items. An archway in the far wall led out to an adjacent room, but to his relief, there was no one in immediate sight. Motioning Katara to follow, Ozai quietly propped open the hatch and crawled through, Katara after, closing it behind her.

From somewhere nearby drifted a muffled dialogue – Lu Da's gruff voice and another he didn't recognize, the clever rogue keeping the shopkeeper busy in conversation. Ozai crept slowly around the shop's belly, taking in the deep mahogany walls, the vast collection of oddities. The interior was larger than he had expected. A lot larger.

The place smelled of old wood and musty cloth. On a table in the center of the room rested a worn book bound in cracked leather and locked with a system of levers and gears. The fossilized skeletal impression of a tiny creature that appeared human on top, fish-like on the bottom. A strange insect preserved inside a glass case – or something that looked vaguely insectoid but wasn't quite. Its body and wings resembled that of a cicada but with two gangly legs ending in feet like a chicken's and a pair of tiny horns on its head.

In a corner stood the stuffed and mounted figure of a six-legged platypus bear, and next to it, a small two-headed conjoined skeleton.

"Do you think any of these things are actually real?" Katara asked, running a finger lightly over the grooves of the fossil.

"I don't care enough to know. Don't touch anything. And keep your eyes open."

Ozai scoured the room with sharply honed focus. In another corner stood an impressive gilded mirror, worn with age, reaching nearly the full height of the room and crowned with the likeness of a coiled dragon. Its glass was clouded and tarnished, and as Ozai looked closer he noted the stains seemed to form the haunted semblance of faces tormented. A prickle crept down his neck and he looked away.

He passed a wall of masks – children's masks, death masks, grimacing masks, ancient masks of bone and bronze and animal hide. Faces beautiful and hideous and everything in between.

Dolls and statues of the bizarre and unsettling variety took up another wall. One sculpture with its head peeking out between scrawny legs and a large hole in its rear presented proudly to the viewer. Three detached doll heads on a shelf with cracked, mutilated faces sewn haphazardly back together with thick black twine. Another with empty white eyes, its teardrop-shaped face too large for its body and painted with tree branches, three scowling jeweled eyes set into its forehead.

There was a set of large paintings on proud display, obviously ancient, depicting several peculiar and – what Ozai could only imagine – uncomfortable sexual positions. At his side, Katara ducked her head and slinked awkwardly away in the other direction.

A shelf of dark vials with faded, yellowed labels – Rhus Toxicodendron, Mandrake, Thorn Apple, Wolfsbane, Tincture of Yew…

A jaw of liquid filled with an array of preserved eyeballs.

A bracelet studded with real human teeth.

Katara made a soft revolted noise as they skulked about the room. It was packed so full of the strange and macabre that his eyes had difficulty sifting through it. Finding the Moonstone in this clutter might prove to be more difficult than he'd–

"What's this?" he heard Katara ask, turning to find her eyeing a glass dome in another corner.

Coming up beside her, Ozai tilted his head and leaned closer, examining it. The dome had an odd, faint glow to it, and it was hard to tell if it was perhaps just a trick of the light. The dome encased a pale blue spherical object, likewise glowing softly. Carved on its surface was a circle comprised of a crescent moon and three wavy lines. The traditional water insignia.

His eyes widened. "I think this is it."

How strange, he thought, that a relic of this nature would be sat on such conspicuous display. Or perhaps not so much strange… but brilliant. Amid the canvas of bizarre and extraordinary items, one might hardly bat an eye at it. If you wanted to hide something, you had to leave it sitting out, right there on the surface.

Ozai clasped the glass cover gently and tried raising it off, but found it locked in place. Unsurprising. He tried lifting the entire thing from the table, but it was as though it had been nailed in place. Leaning down, Ozai turned his head this way and that, searching for a lock of some sort. The base of the dome was a thick plate of metal, and the entire thing appeared completely uniform, no keyhole or such to be seen. But there had to be some way to open it.

At last, he spotted it. Four tiny holes, each no larger than a pinhead, in square formation at the base of the dome. The strangest lock he had ever seen. If it even was a lock.

It seemed a bit senseless to put a locking mechanism on a glass encasement in the first place. Ozai tapped on it to gauge its strength, wondering if he could simply break it, snatch up the stone, and make a run for it. At the impact, a strong shudder quaked around the dome, thrumming up his arm. No wonder it appeared to be glowing. The damn thing was warded. Of course.

He sighed heavily.

"So what now?" Katara asked.

Ozai wasn't sure. He should have known this wouldn't be as straightforward as simply locating the Moonstone. Not a single part of this quest had been simple so far. Katara reached out to touch a taxidermy death moth hairpin, accidentally knocking a large dragon vertebra off the edge.

It fell to the floor with a piercing clatter. Every nerve in Ozai's body snapped tight.

"I told you not to fucking touch anything!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry!"

The muffled conversation in the other room grew quiet. Distantly, Ozai could hear the unfamiliar voice mutter, "Pardon me for just a moment," as footsteps started toward the room.

_ShitShitShitShitShit._

Ozai's eyes darted around the room. There was no way they could crawl back down the trap door in time and there wasn't a single feasible place to hide except–

As his eyes snagged on the gilded mirror in the corner, a dart of unease lanced through the adrenaline roaring in his ears. He could swear the eerie almost-faces in the tarnished glass had changed. The footsteps were nearly to the doorway now and Ozai shoved back the disquiet and pulled Katara behind the mirror, forcing her as far back into the shadows of the corner as he could.

The shopkeeper entered briskly into the room, slowing to a halt and glancing around with pursed lips. Ozai could feel Katara's heart drumming where she was pressed against him, her breasts rising and falling against his chest with rapid breaths. Without warning, an image flashed – white bindings, thin and wet, stuck to her glistening bare curves – and an unwelcome bolt of desire shot through him. Ozai gritted his teeth against it, fighting the urge to move away for fear of getting caught.

The footsteps sidled closer to their hiding place as the man spotted the dragon vertebra, knelt to pick it up, studying it and then the table with a puzzled frown.

The beating of Katara's heart and her breaths were growing faster and Ozai could feel the warmth of her body rising into a palpable heat against him as she turned her face fiercely toward the floor. A line etched between his brows, a small seed of alarm planting at the back of his mind.

The stout, balding man scratched at his chin with a  _Hmm_ , glancing once more about the room before placing the bone back on the table and cruising out again.

"My apologies, where were we?" Ozai heard as the muffled dialogue resumed.

Ozai felt frozen in place, from adrenaline or something else he couldn't say. They stood there for several moments, hearts pounding, body heat burning, pressed into the corner. Even in the shadows, even with her face angled away, Ozai could see Katara's cheeks were on fire. He couldn't place it, but something about her then made his hackles rise.

Quickly distancing himself, Ozai drew a breath and peered once around the mirror before stepping out, Katara mincing behind. He cast one last glimpse at the Moonstone before making for the trap door.

"There's no way of retrieving it right now," he whispered, avoiding her eyes as he opened the hatch. "Let's just get out of here, meet back with Lu Da and try come up with a plan."

He held open the door as Katara climbed down first, Ozai behind her, pulling it shut above him and plunging them into darkness once more.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

"So, the thing's warded. What a huge fucking surprise." Lu Da pressed a hand to his chest, fingers curling. "My heart, it reels from the shock."

The copse of trees droned a late afternoon chorus as they sat along the sun-dappled floor, setting camp in the thickest part of the wood as they could find. Their canine friend was rolling on her back a few feet away, grunting happily. Trapping bits of dead leaves and moss in her wiry, brown coat.

"We have to find a way to disarm it somehow," Ozai rumbled.

Katara twisted her thick brown tresses over one shoulder, sliding a smile toward the dog. "Do you think the shopkeeper would have a way of doing it?"

"Hmm." Lu Da's lips pulled to the side. "Now that you mention it, I did notice a sizeable collection of keys on his belt."

Ozai shook his head, face tight. "This thing won't be unlocked by any ordinary key."

"Then you might be in luck because these weren't of any ordinary variety," Lu Da smirked. "I didn't think to look too closely, but I can assure you they didn't fit your average bill."

"Alright. So, we break in again after dark. Steal the key ring, unlock the case. The Moonstone is ours."

"Wouldn't count on it. The man was wearing the keys on his person in the middle of the day. If he doesn't hang them up during working hours, I doubt he'd keep them there overnight."

Nodding, Ozai drew a deep breath, released it heavily. "We need to find some way to pinch them off that bastard then without him noticing."

"Or at least without anyone else noticing," Lu Da put in.

Ozai raised a sly brow and met his eyes, a dark gleam of understanding. As long there were no witnesses, nothing was off limits. Of course, it was always best to aim for the least amount of damage – the more of a trail you left, the higher your odds of getting caught. But there was never a guarantee, and right now the ends would justify whatever means it took.

The dog flopped down in front of Lu Da, belly up, her tongue drooping contentedly out the side of her mouth as she panted. Lu Da gave a gruff laugh and rubbed her belly, eliciting a series of satisfied grunts.

"I think she's adopted you," Katara hummed, blue eyes smiling. "You should think about giving her a name."

Lu Da stroked his chin. "I suppose so. What do you wanna be called, girl?"

Ozai's mouth tugged down in disdain. "Don't get attached. We can't have the dog following us around, it'll slow us down and draw attention. Which, as I may have mentioned before, we do  _not_  want."

"Don't listen to that sourpuss," he cooed, taking the mutt's scruffy face in both his hands, her tongue lapping happily at his nose. "We won't abandon you like those walking shit stains did. No, we won't."

Katara beamed, Ozai rolling his eyes with a soft sound of disgust. "I'm serious," Ozai pressed, a solemn frown etched into his perfect porcelain face. "The thing's only going to bring us trouble."

After a moment's consideration, Lu Da leaned back with a sigh, the animal flopping to the ground and resting his jowls on dirty paws. He made a mental note to give the dog a good bath next time they met the river.

Ozai had a point to be fair, but Lu Da would be damned if he didn't at least give the dog a chance. And a name, to hell with Ozai's sour curmudgeonry. But for now, he reined his thoughts back to the task at hand.

"Alright," he began at length, pressing a finger to his lips. "How about this. I'll go back into town first thing, sniff around for a day or so, see what I can find out about our friend. You two stay here – no sense in either of you going about unless absolutely necessary. When I come back, it won't be without a plan. One way or another, we're gonna get that damn stone."

Ozai gave a curt nod of approval and the three of them fell into comfortable silence.

The setting sun slowly lit the sky on fire as they idled about, the orange-gold stretching far and wide, the warm color of winter hearths and ripe tangerines. A bat swooped low and was gone again, pursuing summer insects.

Lumbering over to Katara, the dog nuzzled its head against her knee, plopping down alongside her with a heavy thud. Absently, Katara stoked a languid hand over the dog's neck, staring off. Lu Da chuckled under his breath.

"Looks like the mongrel's just as much adopted you, Tsunami. I fear we may have a custody battle on our hands at the end of this," he teased, smirking.

But she didn't seem to hear him, gazing dreamily off at some other point, preoccupied. Lu Da's smirk faded into creased brows. He cocked his head, following the direction of her stare.

Ozai stood next to the satchel, his sculpted throat dipping with a swig from the canteen. A monument to the dark, brooding breed of good looks, he dropped the canteen again and rolled his neck and shoulders, the muscles beneath his fitted tunic rippling, eyes closed in a pensive sigh.

Lu Da's face slackened. Raw disbelief gnawed at his gut, the understanding wringing him tight as he dragged his eyes back slowly to Katara.

She was blushing, her wistful gaze deep with longing… and fixed raptly on Ozai. For a long moment, all he could do was stare, utterly bewildered, his eyes rolling skyward and closing with a silent exhale.

_…Oh, shit._


End file.
